Evening comes,
And I Am,
Alive.
This hill again,
Spring mist rising down below,
Hazy shadows are bushes and trees in the fog.
It's cold and I'm damp.
The sun is huge,
Glows a fiery red,
'Laughing fat man's head',
Slips down and leaves heat,
In the Earth,
And the skylarks cry,
High.
The haze rises,
This mist mutes all sound,
The skylarks fade,
And I'm still cold,
Swimming inside,
Me?
This mist is like a lake,
How these moors were before,
Men and drainage came.
The sounds have gone,
Dampened in the shadows,
As night comes and it gets colder.
I sigh and I leave,
I sigh and I leave,
Because I try,
But I still don't understand.
Written on 'my favourite hill' overlooking Tealham Moor, Hozzard, Wedmore, Somerset, England
Sometime 1987-1990
