Last full moon of the Osprey season



Moonrise over Bassenthwaite

The August moon rises terracotta

A nail of rust born out of mountains

Umber, into the blue of evening.


So stained, surely it has travelled through the heart of earth

Since moon-set of this morning

To slide out now above the thigh of Raise and high Hellvellyn.


The breeze that earlier blew a curve of sails across the Lake

dies in these quiet moments; softly breathes

the single lunar spinnaker above the range.

Casts off its colour in the seconds setting free,

So wing-furled ospreys sitting wakeful in dark trees

glare reflectively with yellow eyes

Following its silver pathway South; skimming the dark Lake of the skies.