Hymn for home
Ripping the tar-night, high on the tor,
Darken the gorsefire, dampen the moors,
Cast all my fear to Atlantic storms,
and weep through the wind.
Crater-led sandlines, back to my birth,
Rose from the lost land, growing in hurt,
Rise to the saints, and set through the earth,
and swing from the storms.
Angels from heathland, worm in the wind,
Heathen in flower, heather in sin.
Mouthing the words to storm-muted hymns,
and pray to the moors.