Along the tramlines to the quarry,
Spoils tipped and tumbled into the valley,
A path winds down below the tor,
Birds chirping loudly to protect their young.
The view stretches a distance across the moors,
With its valleys and hedgerows and walls and tors,
The sun casts a glow on the trees and the land,
And the heart sings a song to be out in the wild.
Sue Cartwright