Pennines Passing

I wrote this poem back in April while in the car going to Scotland for a family wedding; I’d not crossed the Pennines in a very long time and it struck me how wild they are. There was still snow here and there. I forgot to transcribe the poem until today.

Pennines Passing

April 2nd 09

 

Clear skies the whole way

Distant wisps of cloud

Over heather-honey hills

Wreathed in mist and unborn bracken

Dry-stone walls snake and slither

Along hidden boundaries and farms

The bones of the land protrude

Like ribs of a starved dog

Laid over with a thin coat

Of burgeoning springtime grass

Sheep and lambs like clouds laid low

Huddle in hollows

From biting winds and bright sun

Trees still winter nude

Stand sentinel on high points

Strong against the gales

Along the road, notched poles

To mark the road when snow drifts

Too deep to find your way alone

A splash of daffs to prove the spring

And snow like cream atop a pie

Coats the sunlit summits

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