The Pennines by William Marsland.

[billy]

The Pennines.

In blue and clear
waves of roiling heather
Swamp the peaty moor.
Irate easterlies
force purple headed stems
to whip and whisper

Waterfowl
Alight and skim
on windy waters.
Rippled mirrors
no longer calm
reflect a thousand suns.

Kitty Hawk in search of target
Floats, dances, then dives
to ground.
A not too shrewd shrew
succumbs, a squeak or two
then death and feast.

The moorland stage.
Divine, not quite austere
displays the play of nature
to my jaded eyes.
Each day i enter
through its styles
i find afresh, surprise.

[addy]

I really liked this. You make the place sound absolutely gorgeous. Can't really find any kinks in it, so far.

(really liked the last few lines btw )

[Loveblind]

Wow. I must say this poem is beautiful. I got the sense of something peaceful and relaxing. The last stanza was just great. "Displays the play of nature to my jaded eyes"