Sharp, wily winds came calling today,
They crept up to take my Summer away.
In hushed tones, whispering soft to portray,
“It never was yours to claim anyway!
For I control the seasons, my jet stream is the proof,
You cannot see it looming, it’s strong & too aloof!”
Stone flowers are all l gave to you,
Stone flowers will never leave,
Stone flowers are my comfort,
As I stand alone and grieve.
Never will they wither,
Like my love, forever true,
A constant, stone reminder,
Of the sweetheart I once knew.
Look up, you’ll see Welsh dragons play,
Breathing fire for St David’s day!
Smoke and mirrors,
throwing flames,
Sweeping wings & dragon games!
They hide away in heavy cloud,
Trying not to be too loud.
Golden trumpets standing proud,
Lift your heads & sing aloud!
Join together, proudly sway
To celebrate St. David’s Day!
Strong & steadfast, traditional, true,
A fiery dragon rendezvous!
Oh! You beauties, riding high,
Peachy, in amber & golden-topped sky.
An evening show, pure beauty, profound,
Watching in wonder, stunning colours astound.
Silently, follow the mystic path,
Don’t be fooled by the photograph!
At first glance all looks peaceful, calm,
A wooded haven of forest charm,
But slow is the action that’s hard to see,
Of teaming life & busy bees.
The River Lugg runs wild and free,
Splashing sounds in symphony,
Gracefully swirling bank-edged bends,
A confluence of nature, dives and wends.
Leaping & skipping through vale and hill,
Over rock and boulder, no keeping still!
Wounded, stark boughs, limbs that have toiled,
Worked through the land, weathered & spoiled.
Cracked, open surfaces,
battered & broken,
No twisted hedge tales are heard, or yet spoken.
Arthritic forms reach high for salvation,
Desperately seeking their rightful ovation.
I tell all my secrets to wizened old trees,
They capture them, whispering, past leaves on the breeze.
My secrets seep slowly through gnarled, crusty bark,
Creep under their roots where it’s damp, cool & dark.
Trees will not share trust, though they’ll rustle & quiver,
On cold winter days boughs will rattle & shiver.
A poem of love,
forged by heart, through my hand.
Please pause, and listen, then you’ll all understand.
No words for a lover, no flowers for a friend,
Hear the sounds of my heartbeat
In these words that I’ve penned:
