Home Fires (excerpt)
“Our memories fluting upwards in a baleful Yorkshire sky, scalding tea a remedy for all ills, our hearth tilled by rain and bluster.
We shelter in near Top Withins, eyes filled to brim with strange primal beauty emitted to only those who see their souls reflected indifferently in curlew’s call and waterfall,
An imperfect homecoming, now, as I walk alone bereft, windswept towards the moors
Which shape shift under cumulus cloud, tumulous hills marked ordinance, space to grieve and hold a hardy wildflower close, tiny bells of hope chime nature’s song though you are hone.”