up Wessenden the goblinesque
laughter of a grouse rang
out across the moors
through rufous
bracken
then echoed &
reechoed off the slate
of the wind-wracked fells
up there ‘where snipe work late’
we’re going up Wessenden
to walk among the bracken
the reservoirs the weirs
the waterfalls where water
falls from an evergrey sky
we’re going up Wessenden