The Desert

– * –

backs to the wind

fell-ponies thirst watching

water blow as sand

– * –

across the fell-side

frost over ice hisses:

“deny even the roots!”

– * –

through frosted windows

even puddles are hollow


– * –

from shivering winds

insulated – the white hill

below its blanket

– * –

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