Willow seeds adrift at Ambergate
a bothersome fluff for passengers in patient, waiting rooms
small brown butterflies and gnats frequent the line here too
fleeing in retreat when engines rouse the Dale's slumbering tracks
only the hustle of these halts can muffle the Derwent's headlong rush
meeting to impress the ponderous Trent in Derby town
Aeons past, fortressed pinnacles of limestone were cleaved
the river's relentless cut and thrust found a reluctant valley
scored and sinewed as a snake it wove the woods and meadow
and decades later dynamic railmen forged a lateral course
with dynamite and might of money, mind and muscle
took silk and cotton cloth to town, milled on the harnessed headwaters
Industry rests now and the madding crowd disperses
crafting the waterways, picnicking on Peaks
woodlands thicket the grizzled face of High Tor
some naked, grey patches hang about it like smoke
as though charcoal burners have scaled the Heights of Abraham*
but climbers do, significant as insects in this valley of the Dales
a brief interlude at Matlock Bath prompted these impressions and I’m linking up with Bjorn at dVerse OLN #220
PoetryPix 