Over High Street to Patterdale

From the steeple hat of the cairn on Thornthwaite Crag
Dinosaur backs of ridges sloping south
Then mist: drizzling, organic, luminous air;
Hayeswater comes and goes like a lucid thought.
Cold cuts of legs along the Roman road;
Hardy khaki grasses; crouching for cover
By a waterfall in a hollow; then from nowhere
Blue tents by Angle Tarn, and a small shored path
Above the sensuous trench of Patterdale:
Red fern, brown earth, green flanks, aglow like jewels.
Cold lava bears you up as you stride on through
New rain-laid streams that rapidly scan the grit.