From Honister Crag

From my sequence about Constable in Borrowdale...

From Honister Crag

From Honister Crag

Climb to the top, nearly the very top,
to meet the wild that is before and behind.
Empty it is and wide;
not a sheep or circling buzzard ever in view.
For once, in the midday sun, all is bright
and the grass dry underfoot –
a grainy ground of gold. The rock is
no longer rock but a drench of airy light,
the vast unpeopled range laid open.
The sky’s not blue but lemon-white,
the outline of Glaramara fluid, almost diaphanous.
You are nowhere in the picture – painted out:
a gasp of breath-held sight.

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