The sound of a bee and the sighing wind on Winshield Craggs ...

We'd slept untroubled by bad dreams in Saughy Rigg - we were like pilgrims in a welcoming house - 

I would remember the bold silverback, the balloonist, the stories we told over our evening feasts, the chilled Pennine Pale - 

Now we were on Winshield Craggs, approaching Green Slack -  

I looked up to see vapour trails in the sky - the Wall ran across the empty land -

The grass was stirred by the wind - I felt the tender warmth of the sun upon my neck - 

A bee settled upon the purple flower of a thistle - 

Apart from the sound of the bee, and the sighing wind, the world was silent - 

10.35

July 11 2014

Winshield Craggs