On the moor we peer
Down into the fields,
Gorse hedges like
Shaven sideburns,
Small yellow pea flowers
Greet us. In the valley,
The sound of ravens
Carries, their voices
Meet us on the road,
Never their shape.
The inner-life of the
Moor is a little croak
From a big crow:
Kronk, kronk,
Kronk.
Daniel Greenwood 