Drifting clouds and in the purple light
white sheep stand emboldened 'gainst the green;
a flock of birds falls from the sky
hitting a tree in a murmuration,
the starlings are here again
alltogether fizzing and whizzing on the field;
ravens nonchalantly glide past
casting an eye on the farm;
a magpie lands on the back of a sheep.
Up there wet buzzards wheel
and somewhere in the ivy clad oak
last night's owl slumbers.
Beyond the high moors and the pine plantations
up a long gorge beside a lengthening lake
forgotten in the hills
the Flickering Lamp Hotel hides in the woods, i
ivy clad oaks and dripping birches,
moss covered boulders, rushing streams, hart's tongued ferns.
The building, ordinary, nothing special,
front door ajar where the undimmed lamp
shows the way in from the sound of water
over the high dam the silence of the
and the far off hawk's cries.
Power places in Wales are mostly small
hidden in woods, secret valleys, up rocky paths,
through bogs and streams, not easily found in the mountains.
Cwm-y-saeson, heather drenched in blood
Old Meg's grave high on Plynlimon's side
Taliesen's rock overlooking the ocean,
Ffynon Garreg and Llangasty Lake.
Find them if you can !
Far from the weekending Brummy voices
and damp chapels of a sunny afternoon
holy wells in hiding from the world
drip yet with passion, blood,
the veiled bright-eyed cunning of the Welsh
and the roaring music stronger than the wind.