High Moor

nature

a plate of glass

shallows ankle deep

brew of fern and dark water;

the dogs of rain

bark at nothing and ghosts

and the soft beds of trees bury

a family of rough cloth; coal-eaters

sheltering by dim-water fire,

the cold loam under

whips of sleet,

turn of mud and bone,

the rain soaking the night

as it does;

waiting for the first, strained light.

Reviews

[Ruth]

Wonderfully crafted...not obvious description and allows the reader to see it for themselves, just lovely! x

[Eric Cox]

Cool. Love your crafting here, the imagery is fantastic. An excellent write making for a good read.

(Eric Cox.)

[Tom]

Yes indeed, the moors can be a very remote and unforgiving place to be !

Well conveyed in poetic terms Leslie!