The first time I asked him about Morrion Down;
He bade me to be still and not to mention it again.

The second time he repeated the first command;
And said that I would do well to heed and meditate upon it.

The third instance took place during a stroll through Newclarion Park;
But that did not stop a bark and glare of flame and pain within those azure eyes.

Whilst the fourth may as well have been a bark and a bite;
Were it not for the audience at the tables of the Inn.

Widest was the interval between the Fourth and the Fifth.
Yet still the question bubbled all through the morn of the escarpment walk;
With wide fields, distant copses;
Aerial vapour vessels and a sapphire firmament.

"Four times I have asked and all four you have refused;
What lies behind Morrion Down?"

The bark did not come. Nor the unfinished bite.
But a spread of arms and a sigh akin to the surrender of an ice shelf.

"This was; Is;
And will always be:

Marianne-Morrion-Mirriendal Down:

Birth of a Song;
Never far from my present;
And always, Always,
Un-blurred by memory."

. . .

These are three of over 20 poems from Dances, Towers, Hills and Skies.

If you’d like to wander further:

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— Del Elle