Remembering Wales

The Wales that I know
is a patchwork land
of coloured hills
where coppered ferns
and purple heather
felt and stitch together
and lonely trees
with twisted branches grow
weary of the weather.

There are patches of green,
lush and soft and speckled
with sheep that graze.

Stone ruins of a castle
that dragons once guarded
rest on hardened ground.

The cries of ancient battles
are sometimes heard
as thunder rumbles down the valleys.

Whistling winds of the past
tell of myths and legends
that make her people proud.

Tall and vertical
are the chiselled faces
of mountains boned.

Older than the slate itself
there blows a wind
that carries echoes
through these mountains
of dawn explosions,
of hammering
and splitting sounds—
an industry and a people
that shaped this land
and roofed a world.


Tell me about the Wales you know.

One thought on “Remembering Wales

  1. This place I now call home, Once perceived as “Here be dragons”. Where the summer breeze is full of gentle scent and eyes see afar. In winter I breathe with the dragon’s breath upon the windy Preseli hills. Where now I hear the dragon’s roar upon the lively waters of Cenarth falls, for the rains have filled the cauldrons to overflow.

    Liked by 1 person

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