A place where voices are hushed,
and madness may just be heard
as stifled laughter, playing
amongst the gorse, drifting
in and out of the haze with child like
Beyond the lichen marbled Crags,
drape velvet cloaks of purple & green
which over the moorland rise and fall,
home to shade and shine from sunlight born.
Under this sea of heather and fern
something compels me to return,
for there are secrets left here to trace
upon the man riven stones.