Felix Dies Poem by Andy Brookes

Shall I carry these hills on my back
no need they are here in my brain
with memories that are long and longing
whenever they are not there I conjure them
green and pleasant someone said

no they are rugged ragged rangy ranges
full of water, with water full waterfalls
raging roaring or vast cool tarns,
rippling in the wind slivered in the sun
blued or greyed by the skies so big they are a thousand eyefuls
where lies the lark, the grouse,
waiting, hatching or laying to spring alarm at our passing
all flight and feathers ruffled
unfurled like flags to distract from chicks and nests

rising solid grit-stone ridges sharp and rigid
they swoop like eagles and yet softened by purple,
leaps of faith that tether land, water and rock
bridged by misty spectralrainbows stitched by hollow reeds
tis there I where I would be at my end
at my peace at the edges of nature
seeing the beauty in death