The wind whispers throughout the stark copses of trees
The grayness settles like a blanket of chill.
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.