I returned home on this morning
After a superbly convivial evening
To attack my burgeoning woodpile
With a very…very sharp axe.
Nice.
Therapy.
Especially as the morning mist
Combines with the heady scent of sap
Sharpening my senses.
With satisfyingly aching arms
Boots go on and off to the moor.
Relentlessly onward, upward, skyward.
Another spectrum of greens through browns to black.
Ominous crags tower demonically
While streams cascade to wash their untold sins away.
In the rough beside me lay pristine white bunkers.
The top, Chew Reservoir, brew.
Visibility dwindles to next to nothing.
Legs like lead and head in the clouds.
Not a soul.
Not a sound.
Priceless.
Descent and the sky hangs perilously.
Recrossing the snowline and my vista returns.
Myopia incarnate saw fit to strew
Plastic bottles here and there.
I curse forcefully yet silently.
Impossible light colours all I see.
The trees come back bringing a few degrees of warmth with them.
I can almost see my house from here!
The gradient levels and people appear
Strolling around Dovestone Reservoir.
I consider myself blessed
With fitness to see what I saw.
On my return home
The savage beauty of the day
Fills me with warmth.
Esra Sloblock
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/saddleworth-moor-and-more/
