Moorland Solitude

The spongy earth springs underfoot
Concealing all below;
You mind your way,
This eerie day,
You're careful how you go.

As mists roll off the craggy moss
Concealing all above;
You find your way,
This eerie day,
About a place you love.

A speck of rain anoints your head
Concealing thoughts inside;
You see your way,
This eerie day,
To let your qualms, subside.

The heather forms a carpet here
Concealing peril's traits;
You pick your way,
This eerie day,
Where a quaggy snare awaits.

The day is cool, the wind is sharp
Concealing mortal sound;
You hear your way,
This eerie day,
Ear firmly to the ground.

Envisage ghosts of people past
Concealing souls, admired;
You wend your way,
This eerie day,
Where Brontë's were inspired.

But you are where you need to be
Concealing troth secure;
You hide away,
This eerie day,
In the solace of the moor.