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  • Writer's pictureTony Frobisher

From Malvern Top

Updated: Mar 25, 2021

A poem to celebrate the beauty of the counties of Herefordshire and Worcestershire, as seen from the highest point of the Malvern Hills, Worcestershire Beacon.

From Malvern Top

From Malvern top we watched

The crows fly, wing-breath beating

Over Evesham Vale, following

The mercury flash along

The silvered River Severn

Below us a quilted

Display of field and farm

Village and town, patchwork

Stitched by centuries hands

A weathered pattern

From Malvern top we watched

The walkers rise, summit bound

Bent into a roaring westerly gale

Craving the leeward haven

And silence re-found

Bench rested, hearts pounding

Quickened by gradient and such

Views that cause breath be taken

And single tears to form

Or was that the wind?

From Malvern top we watched

The passing of the sun,

Casting happy shadows from

The rounded dome of Bredon Hill

The rolling distant Cotswolds swell

The jagged tooth of British Camp

And Herefordshire Beacon

Fading with the sun dip over

Colwall, and Ledbury's hushed streets

before dying beyond the Clees and Shropshire far

From Malvern top we watched

As seasons changed, a colour riot

Where winter-white thickened layers upon

Worcestershire Beacon and North Hill

And later blossoms pink and yellow sparkled

From Hanley Swan, Welland, Upton-upon-Severn,

Decorous, and blooming marvellous all

And upon the pleasing slopes

The bluebells wind-chattered, gently swaying

In proud display

From Malvern top we watched

The summer rose, a heady scent

When night barely fell

Before sunrise eager came

A gentle rise in cobalt skies

Warming the walkers and brow moppers,

'Lovely day, steeper than it looks'

And the dogs chasing grey rabbit heads,

Burrow bobbers and elusive squirrel tails

Scurrying bark-wards up the trees along the Wyche

From Malvern top we watched

Spires and towers and steeples

As bells pealed from distant

Hereford and Worcester, Cathedrals both,

Canon fodder of chimes and clangs

Competing to be heard first among flock

And Heaven's listeners

As Sunday's best kicked newly fallen leaf

Awaiting autumn's harvest of

Pershore plum, Hereford apple, Worcester pear

From Malvern top we watched

The leaf fire, in russet, gold and purple

A final defiance, a last hurrah and colour charge.

The leaves now blown and reluctantly fallen

As autumn storms arrived

And we began our descent from Malvern top

Beacon light failing upon frosted paths

And all of Worcestershire and Herefordshire

Began to sleep, a Bromyard shush, a Bromsgrove calm

A Ledbury lull, a Kidderminster quiet

From Malvern top we watched

The night close in and a shy moon

Hide behind silhouetted clouds

And the wind strengthened its breath

That tasted of cider and perry

And the clear Malvern spring water

Which we would taste again, once

Malvern top, winter-white cloaked

Looked down upon the two counties

With a smile of renewed green.

Tony Frobisher

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