Tree Tops

Islands in a sea of mist, the Clees stand tall,

patient sun waits

to unveil another day.

A traveller diving misty ocean,

plots a course through hedgerow reef.


Descending, gloom thickens.

Car lights pick out ghostly shapes

that scuttle and evade approach.

Sparrows shoal and swirl like fish,

argue their piece then return to roost.


Past haystacks; monolith

wrecks on a stubble seabed.

Ascending, light and colour return

hill and tree tops float serenely by.



Sun at last lifts its face

Beauty, warmth and golden light

once again flood these hillside shores…

Oblivious, the traveller steers his course

lost in thought.




About The Malt House

A keen amateur photographer and wordsmith, I love the countryside and all that it contains. I live in rural South Shropshire, on the border between England and Wales. I enjoy travel, reading, writing, landscape photography and music.
This entry was posted in Autumn, Landscape, Nature, Poetry, Travel. Bookmark the permalink.

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