On the edge of Cragg quarry I stood
On the edge of Cragg Quarry, I stood. The freshly fallen snow glistened like a field of tiny diamonds scattered beneath the morning’s gentle gaze, transforming the jagged earth into whispers woven from the purest light. Each flake, a silent messenger, had settled with care upon the rugged ground, blanketing the uneven terrain and erasing the man-made imperfections of what once was, leaving behind a pristine canvas.
I watch as the light dances, casting long shadows intertwined with white, creating a surreal play of brilliance. The sun-kissed snow reflects a tender glow, and the air — crisp and invigorating — makes each breath feel like a sip of renewal, as if drawn from the clearest spring. Yet beneath this beauty lies stillness, a hush that wraps around my thoughts, silencing even the most boisterous echoes within. It leaves me humbled — a bittersweet reminder of fleeting splendour.
Here, time stands still. The captivating blend of light, snow, and cloud weaves a transient beauty I know will remain, imprinted deep in the chambers of my heart. A reminder of nature’s duality — fierce, yet gentle. Her contradictory embrace, endlessly astonishing. The swell of gratitude rises like the morning mist, and in the stillness, I breathe in the winter air. With a tear in my eye, I find my voice — a soft murmur escaping my lips — the word “wow”, refracting like light through the snow.
Moments like these etch themselves into the fabric of our souls, urging us to cherish the transient whispers — the delicate beauty life offers in such quiet moments.
On the Edge of Cragg Quarry–a poem inspired by my story
On the edge of Cragg Quarry, I silently stood,
Where snow lay like diamonds, as pure as it could.
The jagged old earth, now softened and white,
Was cloaked in the hush of the morning light.
Each flake, a messenger drifting from the sky,
Had settled with grace where the cold rocks lie.
It softened the scars of the man-made face,
And gifted the quarry a touch of grace.
The sunlight danced in a shimmering play,
Where shadow and brilliance twisted away.
The snow, gently glowing with a golden hue,
Made each breath I drew feel crisp and new.
The air was sharp, yet gentle and clear,
A draught of peace I held so dear.
And in that hush, my thoughts grew still,
Surrendered beneath the winter’s will.
Time seemed to falter, holding its breath,
Suspended between the now and death.
A moment of beauty, fragile and bright,
Etched deep within by snow and light.
For nature — so fierce, yet tender and kind —
Reveals her soul to the quiet mind.
Her paradox, woven in silence and storm,
Wraps around the heart in a fleeting form.
A swell of thanks began to rise,
Like morning mist beneath pale skies.
With tears unshed and eyes aglow,
I whispered, “wow” to the drifting snow.
Such moments linger, soft and slow,
Threaded in where true thoughts go.
Reminders of life’s quiet grace —
A breath, a hush, a still, white place.