Moorland Poem by Jean Renwick

Summer in June, that time, that place...
A great yawn of valley opening below me,
Sheep on its hillsides like tiny white teeth.
The cord of river snaking purposefully along its base.
I remember the sunset over that valley –
The sky was fairy-floss on fire
Thunder made a subdued protest in the distance.

You came to me like the seasons; all hot and cold;
You were wind and fire and rain.
I had love running naked through my head –
A flower bud waiting to unfurl at the first burst of sunlight.
Defying the elements, we created electricity
And burned ourselves into one entity
With eyes, arms and hearts blasted wide open.

Now it’s winter in June, another time, another place...
Deep night curls around me like a second skin.
Snow on the hedgerows, piled on shingled, gable roofs,
In neat white lines along branches and fences –
This is the frosting now settled on my bones.
We left joy unfettered and pain tore through untamed.
There’s just no oxygen in a love sodden with death.