Bear

Sula Sgeir

Icy Path

Lowercase

One of my favourite Joni Mitchell songs - cruelly/thankfully overlooked as a Christmas staple.

Original here - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QPCJxVCcWtk

River

There are blades slicing the air, keeping this great blackbird afloat.
Lanterns and fireworks defend the skies of Arkansas.  You died in the snow, and froze.

Thousands of eyes closed at once.  I'll dig your graves.

I hope you get away.  If you're an art thief with confidence I hope that you may the faint searchlights evade.  Shaping a gun from your hand in lieu of a plan.

Now you and I, lost deep in abandoned mines.
Can't hide the tears we cried 'cause we were just kids.

Beebe

[Closing stanza written and performed by Simon J. Curd]

You’re gone for good now.  Blow out the match, blow it to the north.
These ghosts you found just cruise around dead machines, so untether your bike and leave me to find your dead animals.

Spider webs cover the farms.  He slept in her arms; carriage warm and dark.
Power lines sag heavy with dust.  You won’t shake it off.
Carriage warm and dark.

An intermittent canyon opens – don’t fall in.
Just find somewhere better to go; you won’t take me along.
An unforgiving drop.

From bleached dreams of sleepers and sweeping scenes, I am awakened and hundreds of thumping subplots cross, as a stranger explains he was made to wait for eight stations... and you are gone...

Canyon

Check your sights.  If you have the shot, take the shot or take your finger off the trigger and throw me a liferaft.

Take a walk in the small hours.  Take a drive to that clearing.  Take a match from your coat, stroke, and shield from the wind.  Burn your box of letters.  A blizzard of embers follows you home - wind your windows up.

But the hills were tinder-dry and soon caught.  You took my hand, untied the moorings and we went rowing out together on a misty lake.  We bowed our heads and sang the only hymn we could remember and then prayed the flames would die.  Wood dry dust on our hands.

I'm a horse, trapped in a triangle of motorway roads and I cannot relate to anyone.
If these fences were gone I still wouldn't run away.

Now you're blaming the terminal's corroded green tops for when our story wouldn't arc at all, and I'm ploughing two unhappy furrows either way.  Don't stop hovering - my bird of prey.

The night falls and covers you like the coldest shawl you ever knew, but it's beautiful!
Embroidered with stars!

I'll hide in a cave until the fire and snow have gone away.  And the manual you're looking for is safe in a drawer.  Take it out.  Spread it on the floor.

Check figure 1.

Horse

Minoans are a 3-piece rock band from the Midlands.

minoans

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