The glorious Minke

Such beauty
A marvellous prodigy
Infinite creatively
To Norways Whalers
Wicked souls
The pregnant mothers
All with roles
Easier to kill
So we hear
The harpoon flight
Comes with the fear
Of God and perpetuity

A rider of the ocean’s glory
Quietly telling all her story
With admiration and esteem
A hand held harpoon
Comes a scream
Spurned and turned
Concerned to be
Part of the common

The wrongness
The, Norwegian way
Favouring we have to say
Those who scoff the pickling prime
That doth engage the solid chyme
The blandishments
The flattery
The confounded

A celebration that is you
A wondrous spirit of the blue
Sweet remembrance of things to come
The grateful heart
The beating drum
Eyes begetting sea and sky
As in the swell we perch and lie
Its humbling to see you there
An empathy of colours fair
Where wonder well just always be
Bewilderment for all to see

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