Above the Valley
As we pass through this Autumn realm,
See the valley bound wraiths of mist
Withdrawing like a tide from the willow
Islands of the marshland
With their starkly black boughed trees
Damply dripping with the mist's remains,
Chill air swirls in the rising breeze, and
Black starlings line the wires beyond a barn
But the red kite in his higher flight
Is lost to sight
and only heard.
Between the valley and the heights
We cross the dampened upland ffridd
Still veiled in its grey-bright dampened air.
The heath is springy underfoot
With moss pools often hidden in the turf,
Great grass clumps rise between
As if remembering trees that once had been.
Where the land rises towards the hills
Patches of gorse and bracken surround stone ruins:
A red-berried rowan offers cheery thanks
for its survival.
Now, the swirls of mist that hid the way
Give way to a crisply clear blue heaven above
Two red kites drifting on the still cool breeze.
Did these same watchers in our mountain skies
Watch as the hill fort or the henge was raised
Or see the slaughter of Caradog's men -
Do they still remember as they glide
What once these mosaic hillsides were
Or is their focus only on the ground below the wing?
Do they even see us as they pass over,