Rainbow coloured fields blaze their beauty
across the valley, over open water;
afternoon sun behind, Derwent Moor ahead.
Just minutes to spare
one lonely cloud at a time
casts shadows on proud expectant hilltop boulders.
Like chests puffed with afternoon sun
beating on weathered faces:
boulders tease the unknowing closer.
As the sun emerges, from behind the lonely cloud,
ray upon glorious ray of sun
shine on edges proud – and weathered.
I wrote this poem a little bedraggled and aching lots yesterday evening after walking in the Peak District – this is the view I got when I awoke this morning.