Wednesday, 1 April 2015

I am Wales

I am here, under a cloud of dream,

on sacred turf,  I sit, as the rain  patters down,

the land of my mothers and ancestors,

on the west coast mooching about at leisure,

as spring brings  flowers from their sleeping drift.

I sit with  abundance of time and memory,

as the days dark shadows, creep softly over day,

surrounded by mountains and valleys

wild and elemental, inhaling the whiff of two languages,

where  each buoyant moment catches a nerve,

leaves me safe, well at least for now.

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