The spire

I was high on a spire
looking far away
through the
pouring rain

The river flowing below
the hills rolling afar
the market bustling
people milling

I could look far
from that spire
on a clear day
to see the rolling hills

To see the dark forests
the edge
of the heathlands

I missed seeing the sea
seventy miles to the west
when so high up
it was beyond sight

I can look far
when I'm in the isles
I can see mainland mountains
seventy miles away

Here I'm at home
There I'm at home
When in either
I long to be in the other

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