In Gods Own Yorkshire County

Tis a place of wry English spry folklore
Amid England Highroads - Lowroads
Dew Fork amongst county lanes beauty
Two worn ruts wear grass mediums
In Gods Own Yorkshire County

One way, goes up, to sailing sky lines
Another way, goes down, to the shoreline
Both rippling cerebral currents bylines
Whence English Literature finds disciplines
Taking root amidst countryside curvilinear.

Amongst wandering whispers winding down trails,
A gist wondering illusions sailing sensual trail-ways
English bard will tweet, troubadour strums contrails
Spiraling Free Verse sails of Yorkshire trailblazing
Poet Tree in bud branching a British toast wassail.

Hear Yea, thee proud English stout distinct accent
In Gods Beloved Yorkshire Enlightened County pride
Where locals here, take forks, upon unique owned paths
They sail aloft earnest winds, aloft prancing mind gates
Wherein poetic world of words revolve, evolve Yorkshire.

HeArtMosphere Poet