On Higger Tor

out in the open country

in the beautiful, wild places,

away from the noise

away from people

and all the sins they invent

out with the heather and grass

the worts and the orchids

with the sun and then rain

under the blue and then grey skies

on the hills

by the tarns

running with the streams

walking with myself

and the world alone

wind blown and wet and weary

I come to the the monster rocks

big old Tor boulders

ice-rounded and smoothed

by the tears of clouds

and I sit

and I lay back

and listen to the wind

and look up with closed eyes

pressed down on cold stone

by the mass of the earth

and the weight of fresh air

that fills my nostrils and lungs

with the scent of freedom

and fills my heart to bursting

with love for this moment

and this place

and this world

and then the sound

of voices

of people

of a broken spell

breaks that very heart