The Hills of my Childhood

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On the N.Yorkshire Moors – Pen & Ink … WHB

The Hills of my Childhood

 

The hills of my childhood
Mountains to me
Remain in my memory
And still I can see

Their contours throbbing
Against the bright sky
Promising thrills
With every sigh.

I climbed, scrambled upwards
To grasp what they pledged
In heedless delight
My keenness knife-edged.

The summit had beckoned
Becoming my mission
My reason for living
My only ambition.

And as my heart pounded,
As upwards I raced,
It presaged my future,
The world that I faced.

To view from the summit
The expanse of my world
Was a glimpse of hereafter
Forever unfurled.

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Sea, Sun, and Hills

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Photo by Lukas Kloeppel on Pexels.com

THREE  HAIKU

 

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The Sea

The sea in its strength
Thrusts its breakers to the shore
Stressing my weakness

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The Sun

The morning sun rose
Feeding life into darkness
Renewing with hope

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The Hills

The hills are my strength
Confirming Nature’s promise
That tomorrow lives

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The GREEN MAN

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‘Green Man’ . . . Pen&Wash – WHB ©

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The GREEN MAN

He is my history
Lusting after the hills of my youth
He strides the moorland paths
Amidst the bracken and the gorse
Drinking the sun’s warm ale
Savouring the wind’s heather-toned tang
Turning time to his advantage
Tuning in to its connecting wavelength

He is great Nature’s spirit
Rising and falling with its moods
Sad yet serene in Spring
Holding the hope of the future

Bright and bubbly in the summer rains
Rich and expansive in the sun’s bright gaze

Brought to magnificent autumn richness
Coloured by russet tints
Fruitful in his beneficence

He is the winter too
Drifting with the whiteness of its moods
His flocks penned for winter warmth neath the mountain crag
Shielding the gentle crocus
And the blanched snowdrop

He is the spirit of the trees
Lord of copse and wood
Guardian of Grove and greenwood
Verdant Monarch of the forest

Of the landscape’s lakes
Running with the cool waters of streams and rivers
The stillness of Its ponds and pools

Both past and future
Gone yet still to come again
his cyclic journey unfolds
From birth to death
From death to resurrection
To new life and resurgent hope
Maintaining existence
Midst promises and threats
To bring renewal in the name of life

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The RUN

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The RUN

 Though separated from it
by so many years
that route is etched
onto my memory
I run it in my sleep now
following my recollected path
with trenchant mindset
breathing deeply
whilst
with vigorous tread
pressing onwards

The massed start
then
across the school playing field
right turn out of the gate
onto the sea road
past the police station
the nurse’s home
on to the cemetery
the very edge of town
up that tricky slope
still on metalled road
avoiding the light traffic
before the turn right
off the main road
into Mucky Lane
aptly named
plough on
with uncertain foothold
through the rutted cart tracks
muddy lane
until
eventually
the Whitby road
left towards the moors
a few hundred yards
then leaving the road
right and through the farmyard
annoying the sheepdog
avoiding its belligerence
quickly   
over the stile
up the narrow path
hedge-hugging
onto the foothills
the Cleveland scarp
all is yellow and green
steep climb through the gorse
hard going here
wet but springy turf
short-cropped by the sheep
and all is now green
still climbing
straining
through the encroaching undergrowth
brushing bracken
avoiding the sheep droppings
past the wreck of the old iron mine
the landscape now pink and brown
circle the next shale heap
slag and spoil underfoot
the air shafts
wired off now
as far as the rifle range
out of bounds
sharply right and down now
Butt Lane
and more mud
until back on the Whitby road
right again
following the stickleback stream
along the metalled paving
until
on the flat
picking up my pace
I turn left into the
Hall grounds
now the copse
quickly through
negotiating the kissing gate
and into the Applegarth
the finishing straight
arrows ahead
short sharp uphill sprint
and then
heart racing
to keep up with
legs pounding the ground
grasping the air
gasping for breath until
at last
the tape

beaten
only just
into second place

the story of my life

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The views in the Photo Gallery below and in the top photograph are all from the actual area of the RUN which was on the scarp slope of the Cleveland Hills which form the Northern border of the North Yorkshire Moors National Park.  Some of them are more recent photographs of the actual places through which the cross-country course originally passed.  The photographs were culled from various internet sources covering this area.

 

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