From tiny beginnings to oceans I discovered the world in words

Music of the Moor.

For Gaia Holmes, Michael Stewart, Julia Deakin and William Thirsk-Gaskell, who ‘walked the line’ of ‘the stone stanzas’ by Simon Armitage.

Wind rushes through my hair

chasing it’s own speed.

My feet slowly crunch through rustling bracken.

I wrap my arms around the turbine

while it whirrs and clicks,

still I cannot quieten the wind

nor the gulls riding the thermals

squealing over the reservoir.

 

The wind and I go on at different speeds

to where the hillsheep graze

pink flowers grow from seeds that rattle in their pods

tinkling water trickles between the rocks.

 

Spreading my coat over the crispy grass

I lay back in the heat of the day.

While the seed pods of the broom crack

II listen to the mewing

of the buzzard wheeling overhead.

 

Muffled discharge of gun

harrier gone with the speed of the wind

capercaillie screams and hisses

skylarks sing with the angels way up high.

 

Somewhere in the distance

groaning, belching, clattering of antlers

disturbs the black grouse

it runs, echoing it’s popping sound.

 

A golden eagle, the maestro calls

kaah – kaah, to bid me goodnight

linnets gather to sing their lullaby.

In the silence as the sun descends

pine cones tick – tick – tick and close.

Elaine Morris  (c) 2012 

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Comments on: "Music of the Moor." (2)

  1. real sense of here and now-ness in this poem – a true feeling of existing and living of being….

  2. Thank you so much for your visits. Tad complicated over here. Watching the little ones – but I am glad to be a big part of their young lives.

    I like to listen to the natural sounds…and then someones loud motor bike, car, lawn mower or rushing airplane disrupts my reverie…

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