Winter brims br over bouldered ground br Above Rostrevor. br Scolding crows strut br awkwardly over hardened br ruts of mud, muttering br throaty discontent. br br Louring skies meld br blue lough to green forest. br Needling wind keens br through raftered bones, br once homes, br hewn from ancient granite. br br Mourne claims her own, br over and over, br defeating generations. br br Hasp and staple, br galvanised against the sleekit mist, br defend rude-lintelled doors. br br Who comes? br br Only ghosts of emigrants, br wraiths of mountainy men br whose quick selves br coaxed poor life br from these pale, barren hills br above Rostrevor.