The Angry Crowd.

Peck, peck, peck,
Judges all
A chorus of tuts
The stoniest of wall.

I told you so's
A squadron of guilt
Shaking of heads
Scorn to the hilt

Inside I hear nothing.
Just faces around
Fingers all pointing
Without any sound

For I am away
To hill's in the mist
To tallest of grasses
That dew slowly kissed

Warm summer's sun
The scent of the Earth
My world complete
Regardless of worth

So look on with anger
Crush me at will
Massage your conscience
.....I am here still.