It were blowin’ a gale as I clambered up top,
wi’ gloves that were soggy and fingers like rock.
Weather turned sharp soon as I left tent —
aye, Pennine tricks, wi’ their cold-hearted bent.

Trig point stood there, bold as brass,
white as bone in a sea of grass.
Perched on a rock, all battered and green,
weathered by storms and things it’s seen.

I stepped where sunlight scarce would tread,
Where stone and water softly wed—
A hollow carved by time’s own hand,
A hush more present than the land.

No silence, this—a breathing still,
Where shadows clung with ghostly will.
The walls were damp with ancient tears,
And the air was thick with mineral years.

A trickle carves the stone with grace,
Soft hands that shape a silent place.
No need for thunder, rage, or roar —
The stillest streams can wear the shore.

Now then, sit thissen, tek a breather,
Tha’s climbed enough to sweat through t’ether.
Cast tha’ peepers ‘cross yon land,
Where bog an’ breeze go hand in hand.

Tha’ clouds drift soft, like cloots o’ cream,
While moorland hums a golden dream.
Water’s still as Sunday prayer,
Holdin’ shadows like it cares.

I am the bones of shelter past,
Stone-stacked and weathered, built to last.
My frameless window, once a watchful eye,
Now frames the hills where echoes lie.

A simple journey culminating in a moment of peaceful contemplation in nature. An evocative descriptive poem.

A winters dream. A poem focused on capturing a specific moment and the feelings associated with it, escribing the stillness and beauty of a winter morning.

a poem that captures beauty and melancholy of historical landscape. Imagery rhythm and contemplative tone creates a powerful emotional experience for the reader

Perfectly Imperfect. This poem is a compelling and evocative piece of writing that beautifully celebrates the beauty and value of imperfection.

Perched on the edge of Cragg Quarry, I found myself immersed in a world transformed by snow and silence. In that fleeting stillness, where light danced and time seemed to pause, I felt the quiet power of nature's beauty—both fierce and gentle—etching itself into memory with a single whispered word: wow.