From tiny beginnings to oceans I discovered the world in words


Dry Stone Walls of Cumbria

Hand laid by generations,

standing in the slatted blind

of horizontal drizzle,

in a force nine gale.


What stories could you tell us

of lives and deaths occurring,

romancing couples lazing,

on the crisp green grass.


What do you know of nature

when moss and lichen flourish,

the gathering of mushrooms

in an old milk pail.


Have you seen the shepherds shearing

combined harvesters roll on,

the blacksmith shoe the horses

while the cows mooch past.


Can you see the food we grow here,

the summer crops of barley,

leeks, potatoes, cabbages

and the oil seed rape.


Do buildings block your vision,

have you seen  it all before,

do wind turbines disturb you,

can you still hold fast.


Elaine P Morris   2013  (c)







Comments on: "DRY STONE WALLS" (3)

  1. Lovely poem, it really takes me there. So atmospheric.

  2. Old walls of stone… There is an old stone foot print of a farm house near a local school… it was built over a natural spring. all that is left though is that foot print. One can only wonder at the history.

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