The Fells From DerwentwaterA Poem by Chris Shaw
Dark-veined, foreboding are the fells
whose summits hide behind thin veils of ghostly, drifting, smoke-like trails. Today you wear your autumn coat, of bracken brown and hooker green. The forests thick with graded pine look down upon the sturdy oaks whose cloaks are mellow-yellow gold. How cold the lake appears in rain, slate-grey, the crested waves roll by and you and I in motor launch, undaunted by a sullen sky, aware this landscape and her moods have wooed us.
© 2018 Chris ShawFeatured Review
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26 Reviews Added on August 22, 2018 Last Updated on August 22, 2018 AuthorChris ShawBerkshire, United KingdomAboutAlbert, my paternal grandfather introduced me to Tennyson when I was nine. I have loved poetry ever since but did not attempt writing a single piece until I was 40. It's never too late to try somethin.. more..Writing
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