the black hills

– * –

this Autumn morning

where lies the first light of dawn

behind a black hill

darkness crowds at a window

concealing a golden light

– * –

all through these woodlands

have I not been here before

where all these paths lead

but still should I not explore

the far reaches of my heart

– * –

where once we walked

the wind racing through pine needles

light! dancing shadows

a dog chasing the red fox

what courses these memories?

– * –

In Order To Remain

amongst the poetry of heather

defying the strong-tug

of bleak-blowing winds –

the irresistable pull

of black-sucking peat

walk here, only where rock,

protesting the elements

forgives, to gild a line

a narrow winding path

between the ashen grey

black gnarled twists