Guisecliff Crag, August

entry picture

Where the fragrant heather moorland borders

wildwood, by the crags above the river,

the harebells and last fading heads of clover

nod themselves to sleep in drowsy August.

The ling is now full-on and tightly ordered

spikes of tiny flowers blanket over

the landscape like an Emperor’s purple toga

swathed across the heights, but thrice more gorgeous.

The fated grouse may look up and half-notice

rowan berries reddening on the trees.

We sip the bilberry’s blood, consume the bloated

drone of pollen-laden honeybees.

This track can be a tramp but we are floating,

lofted by the nectar on the breeze.

 

Augustgrouseheatherrowanmoorsmoorlandwildflowers

◄ 100 Reasons to Plant a Tree

Nothing else matters ►

Comments

Profile image

Tim Ellis

Sun 19th Aug 2018 21:56

Thanks for the comments everyone. I’ve been writing a sonnet for every month of the year and I’m going to try to produce a “poetry calendar” as an experiment. Watch this space...

Profile image

Taylor Crowshaw

Sat 18th Aug 2018 16:05

Often visited the Scottish Highlands.. this poem was so evocative of those times. Wonderful thank you. ?

Profile image

Cynthia Buell Thomas

Sat 18th Aug 2018 11:29

Absolutely lovely, a thrill to read and savour.

Profile image

Peter Taylor

Sat 18th Aug 2018 11:07

I really like the authenticity of the naming and describing -and the absolute devotion to the piece of the wonders around us. So much so, in fact, you can smell the air and feel its electricity due to the capture of so much live beauty in the enveloping space.
Peter T

<Deleted User> (19913)

Sat 18th Aug 2018 10:33

Superbly evocative Tim

If you wish to post a comment you must login.

This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message