The wind whispers throughout the stark copses of trees

The grayness settles like a blanket of chill.

The grayness

Of the sky

Of the wind

Of the water

Of the stone

Of the moor

Of our moor.

From the moor the gray seeps into our souls,

Into our lives, into our minds.

From the grayness we stand like a black and white

photo, still and in grayscale.

But throughout the grayness we see the color.

We see the color gray upon our moor.

Our moor, home sweet home, in the gray moor.