Monday, 18 February 2019

A Poem by Tim Taylor

Mountain Man                                       

There’s not an ounce of fat on him:
thin, like the scraggy grass that feeds his sheep
he is the product of these hills, as they are.
Behold, the ridge and dale of him,
boulder chin and craggy nose exposed
above the heather moor of threadbare tweed.
The eyes, set deep in caves
beneath the cliff wall of his brow
let nothing slip.
But look at them at sunset
when the light is on his face
and see there his secret:
This place does not bind him
as towns will tether other men.
Reflected in those eyes you see
only the boundless ocean of sky.

Tim Taylor lives in Meltham, near Huddersfield, and teaches ethics part-time at Leeds University. His poetry has been published in Pennine Platform, Orbis, Acumen (forthcoming), The Lake, The Poetry Village and various other magazines and compilations.  He has also published two novels.

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