Castleton in early Spring, winter lingers - slow to leave
Warm sun’s rays and chill of wind, daffodils along the stream
overlooked by distant hill the ruins of fine Peveril
And in the fields the lambs at play, never fails to thrill
Up high we climb to Hollins Cross, spectacular the views
The Great Ridge to the left and right, unsure which path to choose
The Mother Hill is calling from her elevated height
Left we climb, Back Tor, Lose Hill far behind us to the right
The Shivering Mountain she is known, we shiver as we climb
Strengthening gusts, our caps held down,
But on the ground time after time
We reach the summit, touch the trig, the wind still blowing strong
Easter hols and busy, can’t take pics for long
Down we go the pathway steep, look back along the Tor
Remarking on its eastern face, the mini-hills on show
The Blue John mines, the caverns, a few are further down
And weave our way along the paths till we are back in town
One delight - a little lamb had wandered, in our way
Scuttling fast at Mother’s call, she sadly did not stay
No sweeter sight, the playful lambs when gambolling young and free
If only they outlived the Spring, and always so could be
Some turn into their mothers, slow and bloated, eat and eat
and most males simply disappear and reappear as meat
To stomach such a meat as lamb repugnant to my heart
Best not to dwell too much on this, it’s now time to depart
To Spring, to life, to climbing peaks, to see the lambs another day.
Back Tor, Lose Hill to the right, to Hollins Cross the Edale way.
JG 10.4.18
