For Gwen, Anne and Eryl


In that happy heady grass-green Spring of my years

A time of lambent lamb slow lamb full days around a whited cottage

Lent us space and ease beneath the sun long sky

Golden glorious hours together in a single thought

With close chicken scrape and distant herd

When the swallows dipped to the fly buzz

When the kite climbed to a gliding speck

                And we knew peace

We knew our place in the low home mountains of the Bards

And uncaring of the wider world

Settled there amongst the poppies and elder

Amongst the hedge rich blossom and the tall grass

In the farm heart -

Behind the red gate, shed-hidden, summer-walled

Beneath the beech trees

And down the warm, pale moon dusk

We lay beneath Owain's blessed heaven


And in those sun born, sun run, hay heavy days

When field toil was over, limbs weary from the heft and heft of it

The barley rose golden high and heat bowed in the field

Sheep speckled the distant hills while lambs capered in Rhos Ceiliog

And the cows walked home their sun warm calves

Each uncertain step proud mothered along the track

At dusk, there came to us young girls on horses

                Bidding us ride

And in the low warm sun, we raced heedless across the grass green fields

Careless beneath the dusk blue sky

As stars assayed a first glimmer and the red setting lit the western hedge

A thundering jouncing passage to the evening star

And back to the snorting whinnying hay warm shed

Steaming horses rubbed down and fed burst bale new cut grass

Then led to the quiet field on the hill above the lake

And we were moonlit home

And lay beneath the pale summer stars in the deep blue sun warmed sky


Then, sweet was the time lit by stars in that summer dusk

The warm night hours slow darkened by a mindful moon

Outside our window and our minds the tree-bound stubble fields

The dew damp barley head bowed before the harvest cut

And soft on the wind a distant lowing or a far lamb bleat

Is lost beneath the dipping moon and the hunting owls flight call

Over the hedge rustle or the grass whisper of field mouse or vole

                But we are heedless

All save love is lost to us in the warm room beneath the slate roof

Nothing cared we that soft night

Save for the passion pressed close within our arms and love

The closer grasp the elated press and joy of the other held

The quiet journey up to the star high moon held gasp of harmony

Then tender peace amongst the soft night airs born of the window gape

When sleep held us close Endymion lost with Selene deep beneath the sky

To lie as early dawn

Blazed softly blue fading starlight behind the bird sung mist hung trees and fields

countrysideWalesCambrian MountainsfarmsfieldssunnightstarsmoonpastoralcowssheephorsesloveEndymionSelene

◄ Mostly Welsh

The Land of a Giant ►


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Chris Armstrong

Fri 23rd Feb 2018 10:45

Thanks, Martin. I take great pleasure in individual words - I would almost say the feel of them - so I know what you mean about jouncing! Trying to combine the right words in the right order is what its all about!!

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Martin Elder

Thu 22nd Feb 2018 22:40

A really beautiful poem , a joy to read . Certainly making me feel at peace and rest. So much beautiful imagery I am almost finding myself on the back of a hay cart being carried along by these words.
I also love the word jouncing.
Wonderful stuff

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