In the thin winter light
the setting sun
throws its final breath
on the fields below.
Bare branched trees
and muddy tracks
herald winter.
Lines in the clouds, tractor track lines in the field and yes, a power line …
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https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/silence/
In the thin light of morning
dark trees, silhouettes
against the pink-tinged winter sky.
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Tinged with early morning dew,
the narrow silk of the spider’s web
glistened in the weak sunlight
as I follow the labyrinth.
In this fragile place,
where greed talks loud.
In this beautiful place,
of moors and farmland.
In this tranquil place,
where streams run clear.
In this proud place,
where villages have stood
for centuries.
In this threatened place,
where decisions, made
in council chambers
and behind lobbyist doors,
will change it
for ever.
In Ryedale, North Yorkshire.
Further Information:
http://www.theguardian.com/environment/2016/may/14/fracking-ryedale-north-yorkshire-moors
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verbalising 
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