This 'personification' of a local landmark in Bolton, Lancashire, is my way of saying thank you to it for all the wonderful memories it has left with me over the years.


Winter Hill in four seasons: dedicated to Ceris Morris

Footsteps above me,
pilgrims scurry like blind ants -
tickle me to life.


Heat haze crowns my peak,
only swallows do cartwheels,
I rest and watch clouds.


Red berry-sun rises,
gold falls from generous trees -
who sees this treasure?


My namesake descends,
covers me in a soft down,
time to sleep again.




Haiku by Christopher Fernie The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 878 times
Written on 2016-05-12 at 14:33

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Jamsbo Rockda The PoetBay support member heart!
Well done. Personification is never easy. I like to think that these things have a life of their own and maybe even a memory.
2016-05-17


Elle The PoetBay support member heart!
Lovely, atmospheric, I have never been to Lancashire but I could picture this

Elle x
2016-05-13