Wilderness 2001, 2021
You see
a land wraithed in smoke and the stink of death
You feel
man's determination dulled by desperation and
the hollow, guilty hope that the creeping fate might end
at a neighbour's door.
You cannot farm in the present
At least not in Wales.
The hills were silent memorials to herds brought low,
Uncropped: a tragedy of gr...
Friday 28th July 2017 3:00 pm
Recent Comments
John Botterill on Self Discovery
1 hour ago
Graham Sherwood on Of a summing up
2 hours ago
John Botterill on prettily perched
2 hours ago
John Botterill on She Chooses
2 hours ago
Clare on Why?
3 hours ago
Tom on Self Discovery
3 hours ago
Rose Casserley on Of a summing up
7 hours ago
Rose Casserley on Dame Supergirl!
8 hours ago
M.C. Newberry on Self Discovery
8 hours ago
Rose Casserley on Age of clarification
8 hours ago