TRANSIENT 5
A day of slow skies
Testing new brightnesses.
Cwm Dwfnant is lost
In dreams of cloud once more.
In the green centre
The river whispers
And the crows feel that
Spring is near now, over the hills,
And sunlight, too,
In the slate and stately rise and exhale.
A sleeping world,
Dreaming of waking,
Dreaming of a small unfolding.
—
TRANSIENT 6
Tinder, the horizon.
Laid just so
With blue on blue
To catch spark and roar
Come sunrise.
simonhlilly 
It’s evident to me, Simon, how much you love poetry and word sound…and Wales.
Some might say poetry, word sound and Wales are the same thing!….