picture: from Solomans Temple, Buxton, Derbyshire
Beyond the stile life goes on,
in misted street and soaken lane,
where earth and sky embracing meet
and kiss upon this meeting.
But vantage offers no advantage
from hill in shroud of dewy haze
and the voicey breezes mutter loud
ears cursed with such shrouding.
On this hill in sodden garb,
alone I sit on windswept peak,
feet firmly placed on limestone, grit,
misted future also sitting.
But sure as hill and rain and God
I'm not alone in this dilemma
and, mind wondering, I pray and groan
the Spirit within, without, is groaning.