From a distance, it holds its grandeur still.
Combined columns of brick and stone, bridging
Upland pastures, sylvan vales and ghyll.
What joy marks such monumental ridging!
What pride due to those whose design and skill
Brawn and zeal created such lodestar!
Seventeen arches spanning a quarter mile
Base, parapet and deck whose track fills
The desire of adventurer and rover
To pause here and linger for a while.
The trackway bestows a portal of keen
Terrestrial splendour. Gaze at the landscape;
Study the wilds. Trees, bush and shrub akin
Abode of birds, butterflies, wildlife and wape
Part of the Great Northern Railway Trail,
Time was when the trains carried freight and travellers.
Now blessed be its province as pathway
For walkers, runners and cyclists, it unveils.
Honour Fraser, Johnson, Benton and Woodiwiss,
Jackson and Manywells for this noble trailway.
The viaduct extends itself to friend,
Family and nature as an apex,
An apogee, here with to inter-blend.
Catherine Abberton, Bradford
Senses allured by Creator’s effects:
Champion the children
The runners and ramblers
And Hewenden anglers.
Hail the horse riders
Eye the drone flyers
Mind cyclists and skaters
And skating board acers
Bubble blowers, too
Climbers of trees,
Babies in buggies
And piggyback riders
Along come scooters and hoverboard gliders
Dog-walkers stroll, berry-pickers reap.
And should the flow cease
A godsend for solitude and peace.
Catherine M. Abberton, Bradford
By Whitby’s ancient Monk’s Trod
I walk, alone, on a path where the Monk’s trod,
On the rough-hewn pavings, marching in single file,
To Whitby Abbey for their rendezvous with God.
But I, not pausing at swinging gate or narrow stile
Step from this path at Fitts’ Steep, stone stair
And, forsaking the distant Haven under the Hill,
Instead find somewhat rougher ground.
There lies peaceful solitude in a wood so still.
Where waits a Cathedral quiet amongst the mighty trees
In their tall Battalions of Holly, Oak, Beech, and Ash.
A space of quiet, not silence, as the breeze
Gently aids green leaves rustle and the raindrops splash.
For this Natures haven is where I can find
A shadow of what the Monks devoutly sought
Inner peace of heart and mind, never to be brought
Time passes unnoticed and the world is as it should,
In this: my place, my haven, in an unnamed wood.
Derek J. Lee, Ruswarp, North Yorkshire