Radiance at end of day The earth she sighs In respite of a day of torrent Drawn by wind and swathes of rain The gauntlet laid down Mercurial glow Transcendent and jewelledDroplets fadeStream of light Under the sombre sky.
Cloak of cloudMorphs into a storm dementorCauliflowered top and rising fast Thunderously blackened Drawn battle of the godsOminously stirredFringed edges sweep the skylineSwallowing the viewIn its furyInto a black and white world.
Golden,the final flourish underThe billowing stratus cloud,Captures a Midas touchAs if a net is castAnd the light is flung into spaceBy an almighty hand,Blessing the Earth in beautyAs pigeon and dove sit still, The cows again are silencedIn deepening shades of greenAs the wind from the East abates At the ending of the day.
To stand aloft a mighty eminence, Command of stature and of height The strength defined in graniteHewn by fire Of feldspar, quartz and mica drawn,Defining presence throughTowering walls of rock; Those Tors,with magnificence From ancient Crucibles were formedResplendent of refiner’s fire To forge the views of upland ridge; From whence deep wooded valleys Plunge toContinue reading “On Granite Tors”
In monochromeWinter depths In haunting monotonous roarOf the winter windI dreamOf the soughing treesTheir naked formWith fingered branches Protesting as they areBent lowAnd rain hammers downOn iron clad groundLike sparks fromThe farrier’s steelOn anvil Made as Headlamps light The dark road ahead A sparkling threadPerchance I dreamIn silver.
Through feathered leaves,sutured needles,Icy spines Under the astral sky, Dark fingers charm; Crystals, thick which interlock, Breathe superstition Into the night of Supersaturated air; The silhouette is manifest; It’s stature changed,Transformed to supernatural Spectral state.
In laminar flow the colours,Kaleidoscopic moveAcross the moorland ridge;Burnished bronzeAnd a torrid haze of strawUnites with cooler greensAs the leaden clouds give wayTo patches of powder blue And the world really doesAwaken to the promise Under an English Sky.
Beguiled by beautyThe transient winter’s mornWith hint of white streakedAcross a cyan sky The palette of the hedgerowSwapped for lichen covered Moorland rocksAnd sweeping viewsCandescent riseFrom aloft the mighty Granite tors.Air to breathe The warmth of sunRespite from rain.
Uncertain,That time between shaded Dawn and morning, Nature, In frailty of perfection; Earth lays down on frosted ground Stillness and clarity To seduce the mind On distant viewsJust out of bounds Though view,restriction cannot hold Unchained It serves to sate the soul;Transient it embracesEphemeral white and laced Before transfigured it Resumes its green stained hue.Continue reading “Frost at Dawn”
A marauding sky creeps over the skylineDramatising the moorland ridge;Silver- fingered branches Steal the showAs their naked forms Stand sentinel on the banks; The moss – green of the hollyBoasts proudly against theImpending darkness;Sharply focusedThe eye is drawnTo the silver lane snaking the homeward mile As the moor vanishesBlotted outAnd heavy drops Land on theContinue reading “Driving Home”