Long Roads and Straight

Ribblesdale is ever far,
the Yorkshire landscape flat and bleak,
though stands of trees would feign to mar
the refuge of another week.

For here it is that time is stilled
unless you watch it like a sparrow
on washing line when earth is tilled -
Dry stone walls are straight and narrow.

The Ribble splashes merrily
upon its path to western shore
but still it makes a stop for tea –
stottie cakes and jam at four.

No further need for such alarm
it’s time to rest, Grandfather clock,
to shelter from all further harm
but make a pause twixt tick and…

…tock.