In reply to Fawksey: for my heart:
A dark cloud came in from the west
like a shadow
carrying rain from off the Irish sea
and were it not for the rain drops on your hair
I might think those were tears on your haunted face
And as we stumbled alone across our pennine moor
the peat hag pools were as dark as your thoughts
There is no shelter here.
The pennines face the brunt of all that turmoiled weather
from the west
so we bow our heads, trudge thickly forwards.
As the clouds pass and a watery sun emerges to take
the chill from damp bones I'll look at you and wonder
for a second
if that's the sparkle of your eyes,
or the sunlight catching drops of Irish rain,
clinging to your lashes; gilding you.
F