The mists that linger across the moor, <br />Drifting and swirling above the ground, <br />Are eerie as they travel around, <br />Making the landscape so obscure. <br /> <br />But as they rise up sleepy slow, <br />So gradually the world appears, <br />Taking away those phantasmic fears, <br />When recognising the place you know. <br /> <br />With this curtain spread wide, over the land, <br />Dense space is linked with soundless time, <br />The cloak released then starts to climb, <br />Raised up by God's almighty hand. <br /> <br />© Ernestine Northover<br /><br />Ernestine Northover<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-landscape-so-obscure/
