October 2022A day has begun, the air is heavy,clouds, the colour of blood,adhere to the eastern sky,a creeping mist betrays the river.Crows have made the treetops their own, they mock the horsesin their paddocks, cows muster,as if sensing a coming storm.Crops have been gathered in,birds hang above stubbled fields,carried in a chill breeze, a leafdances… Continue reading October 2022

In a picturesque setting beside the crossing of the River Eamont in Cumbria, England, Brougham Castle (pronounced “Broom”) was founded in the early 13th century. This great keep largely survives, amid many later buildings – including the unusual double gatehouse and impressive ‘Tower of League’. Both a formidable barrier against Scots invaders and a prestigious… Continue reading Brougham Castle

Pack RoadI’m drifting along the old pack roadFrom Polmaddy to Braidenoch Hill,The way is lined with willow herbAnd by fractured dry stone dykes.Beyond them, a sea of pine treesBreak upon the slopes of The Rhins.My chart gives the name of the hills,Millyae, Millfire, Milldown, Carlins Cairn,Craigbrock, Corserin, Craignelder,But there is no real meaning here,old names… Continue reading Pack Road

SeptemberThe forest is breathingon the edge of September,but the trees are creakinglike time-worn bones.The turn is here again,With is no fanfare,just a dusting of lost leaves,sprinkled on forest ways.Still, there is a glintin the tree tops, enoughfor life to thrive in,a comfort, an affirmation,that we are not leaving, we are holding on,wringing each drop of… Continue reading September

Rock FaceI’m face to face with forever,just there, etched in that rock face,the hard truth, the fold and flow,the layers, the colour, the glint.More time than I can imagine,stretches from earth to sky, behind me, the sun sinks lower,casting my shadow on millennia. Derek Ross

Low Tide, Solway FirthThe sandis as furrowedas old skin, and the stakesare the scarsof other times.The wind is fullof memories,carries the tasteof the sea,tugs at the heart,as always. Here is a placeto pause,to gather in,to find a calm,to listen as a far tide murmursanother story.Derek Ross

CastleI am dreaming of a castle,Not as it once was,But as it is now,Tumbled, broken,Breached, roofless,Yet still, in essence,A castle.I imagine,Running my handAlong a rampart,Tracing an archiveWith my finger tips,Stone upon stone,Word upon word,A familiar story.A bird ghostsThrough a dark window,A chilled currentWhispers through,It is the castle’s voice,Reminding me,It’s not our wallsThat marks our way,It’s… Continue reading Castle