Heather, royally purple, clothing the hillsides above.
Around the circles of Llanhifangel Abergwesyn,
The silver, sanding shores of Irfon, curved and rippled.
Sheltered from sheep, this round silent shield
Is where they are gathered, where they are splintered,
Where they are woven.
United, divided, leaning into the storms of Time.
Hausers swinging between centuries
Binding sun and earth, to heaven, even.
Knitted light revolved and spun,
Wheels in wheels, a thousand eyes
Open and closing, a blink of orbital rhythm.
These trees, these towers, these castles roaring upwards.
Ladders of chant and silence,
Bow ye down,
Bow ye graceful between the gravestones,
Flaked and moss green.
Bone and mind incorporate,
Reawoke, voiceless and benign
In speckled sunlight, sublime.