The Moor

Valleys of Mists on Dartmoor by Adrian Oakes from here 


The soft space and mindful stillness described in the poem below capture the spaciousness of walking in God's creation and even a metaphor for Eucharist ..

The Moor 

R.S. Thomas

It was like a church to me.
I entered it on soft foot,
Breath held like a cap in the hand.

It was quiet.

What God was there made himself felt,
Not listened to, in clean colours
That brought a moistening of the eye,
In movement of the wind over grass.

There were no prayers said. But stillness
Of the heart's passions -- that was praise
Enough; and the mind's cession
Of its kingdom.

 I walked on,
Simple and poor, while the air crumbled
And broke on me generously as bread.