Moorish Tableaux

Across the vast acreage
of heather strewn fen, over a pristine wasteland
of peat bogs, sedge, moss and perpetual mist,
the seasons diminish and build
only to diminish and build again.

The flowing winds seep through granite corridors
and ravage the desolate land, whisper mysteriously;
an endless passage along empty paths
overgrown from disuse, barely discerned.

The moor claims what wanders lost;
her maze of tangled underbrush leads to abrupt ends
as her mucky mouth greedily sucks
down to her cold, carious depths
and preserves well,
whatever stumbles in.

© 2001 by Cookala