The great ridge above Edale

As you drive across  the Black
Moor from Chesterfield
To Hathersage

Clouds race each Other
Across the Sky

Sunlight and Shadow
Race Past
The black scar tissue Of
Drystone Walls

Walls put up by Men

Even after two Thousand
The black bones Of
Carls Wark
Are still There

The black flesh of the Moor
Slow at Healing

In Mickleden Beck

All seems lost except as Shelter
To the Weasels and Voles
Gold Autumn
Bracken falls and Softens
The Wounds

Healing over with Acrid
Black Crowberry
Grit wreathed deep In
Sweet Bilberry

Grey grit Bones

Cold forged in Winters
The old stones Tempered
Left naked

A funereal pyre of Forgotten

The long Moor Bleaklow


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