Bury yourself in my moorland cloak inhale the earth and ancient ways In the mists of time when I was young it was here I spent my formative days The threads of my cloak are woven tight with purple gold and green See the twists of silver a stain of black with a hint of blue Swallows and moorland streams Here see some threads of buff and brown Twined with dun and bay these speak of my four-legged wild ones who were here before you came the shades of grey are my stones in rows and circles found still connecting to distant times The red threads here with strands of gold were spun on a sunlit day Caught from the colours on sacred walls painted by hands unknown On hedgebanks high and on hollow lanes here in the weft you see the colours of Dog and Guilder rose Blackthorn snow then the pink of May Now look at the waft just about there see that vibrant blue depicting the colour on my woodland floors when the earth renews This dark and strong russet brown thread fading through to yellowish cream Catches the breath of the hunted stags echoing down the years Now wrap yourself up in my moorland cloak lie down and look up at the stars Dream dreams of what has gone before for none of this is ours
This piece was inspired by the colours of the changing seasons and encapsulates my feelings when I am exploring Exmoor, connecting with this unique landscape and deep-rooted sense of enduring relevance