Ashes to ashes

Just a poem I've written following a visit to Dartmoor in Devon last week. My uncle's ashes are blowing in the wind just there but the thoughts for me are about Janet. The poem is written as if it were by my aunt and is called Ashes to Ashes.

Climbing on the
Rocky, peaty ground
Past mere; on moor
With pounding heart.
Through cooling wind,
Entrancing sky
Below nimbus clouds,
Brooding, full.

Summer bracken uncurled
With fingered fronds;
Home to tiny oaks,
To butterfly; to bee.
Heather abundant
In muted lilac
And the golden spines
Of thorny gorse.
Foxgloves marked
With linen specks
Where elves placed
Fingers long ago.

Aloft a buzzard circling
Calling to its mate
Rising ever upwards
Upon a thermal air

Noble mass of granite rock
Piled precariously high
Mysteriously concealing
A sacred life,
A life so long,
And proud and still,
Watching silently
The moorland few.

Mystifying life:
Secrets held;
Family life:
Secrets told;
Layered life
From dawn of time
Through pain and love
And peace again.

Spirit lay down
And rest awhile
In crevice moss
Away from chills
How many men
Have trod the path
Enlightened then -
Forgotten now?

But I won’t forget:

Your soul lives on
Ever blown
By wind, by rain
Ever more;
Ever same.