Moorland Solitude

The spongy earth springs underfoot Concealing all below; You mind your way, This eerie day, You're careful how you go. As mists roll off the craggy moss Concealing all above; You find your way, This eerie day, About a place you love. A speck of rain anoints your head Concealing thoughts inside; You see your way, This eerie day, To let your qualms, subside. The heather forms a carpet here Concealing peril's traits; You pick your way, This eerie day, Where a quaggy snare awaits. The day is cool, the wind is sharp Concealing mortal sound; You hear your way, This eerie day, Ear firmly to the ground. Envisage ghosts of people past Concealing souls, admired; You wend your way, This eerie day, Where Brontë's were inspired. But you are where you need to be Concealing troth secure; You hide away, This eerie day, In the solace of the moor.