14/02/2016

#poem #poetry #amwriting #sketchbook moor

green winter water rolling
down mazey tumbled waterfall
ignites the air with motion's song
to chase the frosted finger chill
in moment warm of the turning

sunlight draws us from the valley
to benches were we sit and hear
enjoyment of the blackbird singing
with cheeks freshed to rosey hue

weary legs climb the rocks
to chime the joy of flowing air
clearing winter's housebound pipes
in exultation of being here