Motherwell to Carlisle.

Along, across a steel mountainside,
woven in earth by the Clyde’s banks,
serpentine, with old islands wide,
majestic in long and umber shadows,

where I am both small, and in wonder,
skies glinting, by misted thick copses,
gathered pine tops like mere spears,
colossal and mysterious in murmurs,

browning furze, surreal turf, a beauty,
daylight waning, grey, with a sway, fades.