The Moor Speaks

I am the moor where the wind sings
I am earth and water
I am sand and sky
I am all dead things

I am alive

You skip barefoot through my heather
And lean down among the mosses
With your fingers and your lusting and your soft pale belly
You've made love and you've made life inside your dark, damp bodies
As I have in mine

You were both bog born
Do not hold your breath in your fist
Open your hands
Do not hold your breath in your fist
Open your hands

Sphagnum palustre that's lime green and copper stars
Sphagnum aurichulatum like clumps of rhubarb and custard
The vibrant cherry red of sphagnum megallanicum
And hylocomium splendens, glittering lich moss

You were all bog born
You were all bog born

The nest of the plover is in the little wooden copse
My little one shall sleep and he shall have the bird
The nest of the red hen is in the green red tip heather
My little one shall sleep and he shall have the birds
The nest of the [?] is in the bubbling cheek moss
My little one shall sleep and he shall have the birches
The nest of the skylark is in the track of [?]
My little one shall sleep and he shall have the bird

My little one shall sleep
My little one shall sleep
My little one shall sleep
My little one shall sleep