Mist unfolds from your slopes’
envelopes of valley and sky.
Above winter peaks, the black script
of trees and bird flight.
My faltering steps
and words overshadowed
by the wind’s stone-swept stutters,
lost in crackles of fern and bracken.
Past snatches of nettle burn,
Sunday morning legs, summer sweat
and vista-slapped gasps –
yet shaping the knit of my bones.
Distilled from your hills’ daily moods
and light filtered through leaves,
a sense of peace, essence of me.
It should be easy – to keep
in touch, write home with love,
Like this land, I’ve learned to live
with distance, and never sign off
something hanging –
a raindrop, a branch, a ledge
at the edge, in hope
of a steady handhold.
S.A. Leavesley is a poet, fiction writer, journalist, photographer, editor. Her latest books: ‘plenty-fish’ (Nine Arches Press, shortlisted in International Rubery Book Awards 2016) ‘Lampshades & Glass Rivers’ (Overton Poetry Prize 2015 winner) and a novella, ‘Kaleidoscope’. Her website is at: www.sarah-james.co.uk.