Up to Heptonstall


It’s good to be back here
if only for a little while
retracing my footsteps
for just a couple of miles

I like to breathe the Yorkshire air
and walk the country lanes
hear the accent I was born to
and see the views again

I step past the old co-op houses
the glass is leaded but clear
I like to look through people’s windows
and make no exceptions here

it’s an easy stroll down the hill
a sweeping turn on Ackroyd lane
the stream and dry stone walls
are the features of this terrain

I arrive in Hebden Bridge and sit
outside a cafe on a silver chair
a cappuccino and a buttered scone
watching people in the Square

my thoughts fly to the Philippines
I miss my friend not sitting here
he works in an International school
only comes back once a year

I cross the river on the old stone bridge
for the hardest part of the walk
a heart pounding incline on cobblestone
that neither bends nor forks

on the road up to Heptonstall
views are opening far and wide
the wonderful luscious greenery
the magnificent scented sky

the eight bell tower chimes
above the weavers cottages of old
it’s a village trapped in time
and of distant battles foretold

I sit on a bench to catch my breath
a tourist comes over to ask
I point towards the old church yard
and the grave of Sylvia Plath

blue light



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