Great Gable

from Scafell

This replaces the previous blip which stood in lieu of the day. The poem goes with that. Neither felt quite right for the day. I ended up going up Scafell, probably the longest ascent in history (nearly 10 hours). Not sure where the time went exactly but I hated every step.

Hand (Carol Ann Duffy)

Away from you I hold hands with the air,
your imagined, untouchable hand. Not there,
your fingers braid with mine as I walk.
Far away in my heart, you start to talk.

I squeeze the air, kicking the auburn leaves,
everything suddenly gold. I half believe
you hand is holding mine, the way
it would if you were here. What do you say

in my heart? I bend my head to listen, then feel
your hand reach out and stroke my hair, as real
as the wind caressing the fretful trees above.
Now I can hear you clearly, speaking of love.