The fiddle stringer

The wind growls at me
and I scowl back,
tit for tat.

This and that’s okay if it
helps you make it
anyway that’s this boy’s
but you
must make your own way
and every day you’ll own.

Never been down to
‘Red River Valley’
but it sounds a real
homely place.

You’ll have to stop me when
I wander to far from the pen
and poem,
bad habits are good at times
but hard to break.

This and that’s what’ll take me
to the corners where conspiracy
is fused into the stones.

The wind’ll growl and
I’ll still scowl
nothing ever changes.

© 2017, John Smallshaw.