which as the light increases
race each other across the land
like fell runners they cross
lichen covered rocks and heather
with the speed of early morning sun
dropping down impossible drops
just as quickly climbing crags
accelerating with the mist burning light
black fingers caress the peaks
as if sculpting the land anew
but, inexorably the sunlight rises
shadows shrivel hiding in burrows
retreating from the stronger light
secreting themselves in rock fissures
dark hands resting for future labour
waiting for tomorrow when waking
they race across the fell again
each trying to win...