Homesickness

LEARNING TO LOVE YOU

(ODE TO THE YORKSHIRE MOORS)

Your large expanses form a contrast 

To the stark white sky onto which you open yourself.

You are the chair of an exclusive club,

Seat of the heavens, 

Home to wild horses, to Cathy and Heathcliff, 

Dog walkers, writers, and early risers. 

You are beautiful, but unforgiving. 

It takes effort to reach your heart, 

Tearing the clothes from my hot skin 

Only to clutch them tightly again 

As the cooling sweat raises goosebumps. 

Instead of braving the gradients

I was content to grow restless in the valley, 

Awaiting my escape into the big busy world. 

But despite myself, I miss you.

I miss the unforgiving wilderness 

And the wind shocking the pink into my cheeks. 

You're wild and wily –

You got deep under my skin. 

And like a nagging, itching feeling, 

You're calling me home.

Poppy Turner

The longer that I am away from home, the more homesick I become.  Poppy's beautiful poem transported me straight back to the Yorkshire Moors.  I did brave the gradients and walked over many moors and dales when I lived in Yorkshire.  They got deep under my skin.

They are definitely calling me home...