Dartmoor

I'm reading a lot of love craft at the moment, so here's one I threw together quickly this morning

Primal heath
   Where weighted mist lies
Heavy
          In amongst ancient tors
A shroud hiding valley floors
         Where elder feet had dared not tread
Through knitted fern blanket
             Verdant threads
That pull at clothes
  Beneath the knotted trunks

Old woods are ancient tapestries. Those
           Who walked the fog alone
Lie dead and buried 'neath crumbling stone.

Reviews

[John Alexander McFadyen]

A stark and foreboding picture portrayed in this grey and dark. wonderfully lyrical and articulated poem!