If you’d asked us a month or so ago which of our UK walking holidays was the most likely to inspire poetic reflections, we would probably have suggested
The Lake District – this is, after all, the region where Wordsworth was moved to write some of his best-loved works.
However – and although we have never specifically asked you to put your thoughts into verse – we have recently received a lovely collection of poems about our very own
Yorkshire Dales.
We think they’re too good not to share, so we’ve featured a few of our favourites below – including one by Inntravel’s very own Chris Overton.
First day of Autumn in God’s Own Country – Matthew Jelley
Polished racehorses strutting through the market square
A murder of crows wheeling round the castle keep
Swallows swooping low over the meadows; a hare careering across the field;
Hazy afternoon sunshine under the sycamore for our picnic
White sheep by the drystone walls in the afternoon; Black Sheep Ale on draught in the evening
Walking through Wensleydale. Every bend in the footpath a new photo opportunity – say cheese…
The Yorkshire Dales – Gemma Alexander
What will my ventures entail, as I begin on this unknown trail.
Even through the rain and clouds, nature’s beauty still shines proud.
The vivid greens and ice-cold streams, this is what true beauty means.
Above Settle – Hilde Morris
Grey skies lie heavy over the hills
Threatening, dark, ominous.
Grey crags loom behind us,
Dark, forbidding,
Above scree-scattered slopes.
Down the valley, white
Boulders settle in the
Close-cropped turf, haunt of rabbits.
Tawny grass, summer-bleached,
Murmurs, wind-tossed.
Glows in the weak September light.
Middleham Gallops – Chris Overton
Rise sun and shine on beauty
Dew drips as hoofs pass
The thunder from the ground
Not the sky
As the beast passes at a glance
Walk through the early moor
To see such greatness and power
From caring lodgings
Such a wonderful sight
Man and horse
The speed and style
Gallop onwards at pace
Sweat falling onto lust grass
No winners just raw strength
And then it’s over
The pace drops to a stroll
Such magnificent creatures
Steam in the light
As they find their way back
To the village which is home.