RETURN

I roamed, in daily presence of this scene, Upon the naked pool and dreary crags, And on the melancholy beacon, fell A spirit of pleasure and youth’s golden gleam: And think ye not with radiance more sublime For these remembrances, and for the power They had left behind. (From William Wordsworth, The Prelude) A literal journey becomes a metaphorical vehicle for a spiritual journey producing a compelling narrative on the power of the landscape to evoke memory and the past. In memory of my father

©JulieDerbyshire 2020