Of Promise.

“Not favoured spots alone, but the whole earth,
The beauty wore of promise” – William Wordsworth

It isn’t a hard road
gracefully, it curves upward
away from all the would-be cares
of this tired new world
back to the old, forgotten things:
tree and mountain 
flower and stream
open common ground.
True, there are pitfalls:
abandoned mine shafts
but these have been cairned, carefully 
by those who went before
a kindness.
Walk around them,
rise 
into the overarching skies
see how the blue increases 
and the view, at the outset so intimate
expands to take in distant lands
the Firth, 
the backbone of this Northern earth
the jewelled hills beyond
which call you on
into this realm
of promise

Β© 2022 experimentsinfiction.com. All Rights Reserved.

This poem was inspired by a walk to High Pike above Caldbeck in the English Lake District. You can see more pictures from my walk below. Sharing with earthweal’s Open Link Weekend #126.

50 thoughts on “Of Promise.

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  1. Exceptionally lovely. Seeing that gives the impression that all is good with our planet. Sadly, this is not so. The reminders are there to grow us. This is why we need to do more. Let’s do what we can so our grandchildren can see this beauty as well. Thanks for sharing, Ingrid. I also shared a video this weekend. For positivity. The call required I act on it.
    Thanks for sharing your world. xoxo

    1. It was more about all being right in my ❀️ I know we have much work to do with the 🌎 but the work starts within! Thank you for reading, Selma 😊

      1. Whenever I used to visit while living abroad it would rain, but we seem to be blessed with good weather recently!

      2. and a good move Ingrid, sounds like you’ve made some big changes so I pray the sun continues to shine on you, your family and your projects … take care precious!

  2. How beautiful, Ingrid.! The poem and the photos are both heart-touching… the old stone bridge, the foxglove beside the mossy stone fence. I imagine my English ancestors walking there and my Scottish, Irish, and German ancestors walking in similarly lovely places.

    Here, the old places belong to the Native Americans. Indian Mound, beside Lemon Bay, is a place I have gone to contemplate the lives of the people who once lived there. In 2016, a twelve thousand-year-old burial ground was discovered twenty feet beneath the surface of the bay and is now a protected site.Your poem evokes the same feelings of reverence as Indian Mound. <3

  3. Many elements to love about your poem, Ingrid. Your intimate connection and understanding of nature, your detailed descriptions, and the metaphors found within. ✨

  4. I love the contrast of the sheltered bridge and path lined by tree against the sudden burst of sunshine and open field! Lovely pairing of poem and photo. πŸ™‚

  5. Blue skies and sunshine are not my recollection of old Blighty. Lovely shots and words to match. You can tell I have been watching Wimbledon:)

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