In the Peak District

Land of   cruel rock and harsh descents
Into river valleys with stone houses.
On  the West side struck by chilly rain
Blown by the West wind.
Land of wildness  and birds,eagles even;
How it calls to me.
The vast space and  the peaceful green
The heather and the sheep.
The lark in the morning
And the joy of vision
Up high and higher into the void of the sky
We climbed with  strange lack of fear