Not looking for further crit on content. I've amended the poem already
according to the helpful advice I got last time. Instead further help with
the stanza and line breaks would be welcome.  Never could work out regular
stanza breaks superimposed on an irregular verse form. No probs with abab
and cdcd fixed rhyme patterns. No probs either with irregular stanza breaks
just where it "sounds right" or the  theme moves on. But supposing  you read
or write a poem that's got 36 lines, that could give 12 lots of 3 or 6 lots
of 6 or 9 lots of 4 etc. How about this poem? Could it be chopped up
differently and if so, why?

PS The title is temporary. Any alternatives?

15.9.01  Description

On the estate
houses hunch against Atlantic gale
like barnacles on the green hull of the hill,
white husks made small by sky and slope,

swamped by storm but resisting,
not as weed or willow but unflexing brick.
They obtrude like rubbish but do not blow away.
Each holds the allotted soil at its base,

the earth of gardens turned over and over
for mercenary cypress and the roots of wiry roses.
Tarmac carries the onslaught of rain day after day,
bears back against cars and the trainers

of growing children. It has buried the forts of Romans
and the shields of Celts with its implacable skin.
The funnelled wind has no choice
 but to move in its tunnel or be deflected.

The clouds rage. The bleaching light falls.
Shadows pour from the empty hills.
Weeds are pulled, month after month.
No evidence that boar and bear

were ever here. A few tame trees
and this small percentage of green remain.
Magpies and grey squirrels have colonised it,
at home equally on rough-cast and gritted roof.

Cats slink from door flaps to prowl on the shed ridge.
Song bird and butterfly were evicted
long ago. The land bears this irritation on its flank.
The wind tolerates its resistance.

Solid wedges and corners endure
all that the year brings, harbour
harlot flowers at their edges,
shield grass from frost at last light,

allow some stars between walls,
the round pondering hills
and a ball of mottled ivory by night
as I go in cool and expectant to the warm room.
___________________________________________


Of course I realise that no amount of chopping and changing will make a silk
purse etc