From the miles of flatness and the fens
Comes . the hill where this Cathedral stands
Everyone can see this floodlit site
When the moon is out and there is night.
I saw it through the window as I turned
It’ struck me down with beauty never learnt.
As I lay surprised upon the stair
I absorbed the beauty I saw there
Should we worship beauty such as this?
It strikes us with a hammer not a kiss

Even love is subject to finance.

Children need their food, theit little bed

When we’re cold and hungry we can’t dance

Hoping for true love by happenstance?

Children may be born but are they bred?;

Even love is subject to finance

Do we need the lightness of romance?

Be like little children, one man said

When we’re cold and hungry, there’s no chance

But money by itself lacks elegance.

Tell us more about what some man said

Children’s hands reach out,as if entranced.

Be a slave to love but not finance.

The heart is wise, but reason writhes,is dead

I follow links but somehow lose the thread

Love itself has died on bloody sands

Why should the wounded fearful try to dance?

We saw the view from Langdale to the sea
Windermere, a riddle ten miles long
Coniston a question of degree
Old Man standing like a God to sing

The risky climb, the tough hand that saved me
The energy of youth and the unknown
The boldest child, the future poetry
By the shape of hills ,I’m overthrown

The shock of beauty and the cliffs of rock
The slope as sheer as ecstasy, the poem
The sturdy heart that startled with its knock
The pensive soul that brought these wishes home

On the highest peak’s edge, we lay down~
Closed our eyes to hear the sheep bells sound