I hear them crying.
A few people have asked me to write some ‘moor’ poetry
(A lot ‘more’ people have requested that I write ‘less’ poetry)
And, so, I shall write a ‘moor’ poem.
Once more unto the moor, I say;
Even though it’s a wet and dreary day;
And along sodden paths we wander
Whilst worlds collide
And governments collude…
And peace overtakes us.
As a distant train passes by
Rushing on it’s journey from somewhere
But, wherever that ‘somewhere’ may be,
I don’t want to go there.
I’m happy in the here and now.
New Forest Ponies close-mow the grasses,
And distanced walkers take dogged steps to exercise their demons.
Whilst we walk and wander amblessly upon the verdant surface of this planet.
And life is good.