Dylan Thomas rode up the highway in Milton <br />His warbling jowls ruddy with drink <br />At 99 he’s seen the howling <br />World with egrets and sea eagles <br />Bustled by plovers <br />Unconcerned unconcealed <br />The ceremony rich in sadness <br />Flying half-mast with personal <br />Wreathes of farewell and loss <br />And straight after to the Commercial <br />For a couple of early rums <br />The view out over Green Island <br />Mist hoven velvet <br />Two-Up down in the yard <br />On tails holding the money <br />Dylan drifting in his middy <br />His wilting eyes <br />Red with age and weary <br />Of waiting for departure. <br /> <br />(Bawley Point,28 March 2014)<br /><br />David McLean Mathews<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dylan-thomas-4/
