For a decade or more,
A wall has dominated the borealis view.
Not of stone, But of bricks and metal;
A landmark to a house of follies.
Home to two-score flock of pigeons,
Who wheel and roost,
Dance, breed and roost again.
A more than grand substitute,
For the cliffs their wild cousins still reside on the further isles.
Now in the morn of septembre,I stare across the expanse where the wall once lay:
Bricks broken down,
Steel pillars taken away.
Instead lies an expanse that crosses road and houses,
And continues on into the sky.
More welcome,
More bright,
Than the monolith that had stood before.
To the North, North east and North West I can now gaze;
Unhindered into the realm of firmament and clouds.
And only have dimming photographs of the barrier that stood before.
Would I have the monolith back?
I will let thee guess...