Bosley
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Alison Tottle
The Cloud
Rising from the Cheshire Plain
A fortress, protection from the Pennine Peaks.
Rocks stand out against the sky, looming close above,
Or vanish into mist and cloud.
The giant's footstep cuts the cliff
As he strides across the land.
He looks to Snowdon, Shutlingsloe, Long Mynd and The Edge.
Hills of legend and mystery where lurk mythical beasts of old.
Once Irish navvies, quarrymen blasted the rock
Now laughing children roll Easter eggs, pick bilberries,
Hide in the hollows. Romping dogs chase rabbits,
Climbers come with ropes and pitons.
Green, black and gold; purple, bracken brown and grey
Colours change with the turning earth
But The Cloud stands proud and strong.
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