dailyflicks:They struggled up hillsides where branches are bare,They climbed up past rock-faces grip
dailyflicks:They struggled up hillsides where branches are bare,They climbed up past rock-faces gripped by cold.The clouds were high up, but murky beneath them,Mist shrouded the moors, melted on the hills.Each summit wore a hat, a huge cloak of mist.Streams foamed and splashed down the slopes around them,Breaking white against the banks as they rushed downhill.- SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT by anonymous -- source link