Hope

Look
from that peak
on our gorse Moor

earth settles as wine,
beige, precarious stones jut
for ones to scramble

a shea nut Sun rises,
heats, echoes inside herself,
turns back to the ground

some sunken hours later
you'll stretch stiff fingers in prayer,
admire cirrus cloud formations

scratch the back of your neck
wait for an opal moon
to illuminate a dust bath sky

a silouhette'll nestle
close by, the other side
of a mouth shaped rock

she'll hum to her motherhome,
a tune that'll transport you
to a time you felt young