Kinder a fast decaying wasteland, a mocking travesty of once proud bog moorland
But now only endless hags of peat, and dark unforgiving groughs.
The bane of walkers, hands clutching to their lifeline ‘the compass’.
Where swoops and glides the curlew and the plover
Where creeps the spongy sphagnum
The bubbling stream that is Kinder river, which cascades over the downfall
Only to be thrown back on high by unseen giant hands, the upside down waterfall.
Here amongst the tormented rock, twisted into evocative shapes.
The hardy strength of bilberry, and crowberry, which clings tenaciously to life
Here where tranquillity, is found in the isolation and solitude
The majestic beauty of a mountain that can still define
The inspiration and aspirations of all who visit