The Doors of Midsummer
A breath of cloud moves east across Y Garn’s face.
Words are as scarce as swallows in a cold summer.
Anyway, anyway, they only grow from dream to tangled lie,
flowering like the bindweed covering all beneath,
Weighing down, weighing down until nothing else remains.
The doors have opened in every hill,
An invitation to join the dance and summer’s feast.
But we are taught to doubt generosity,
To look for the trap in openness and goodness
(nothing is true that comes so free and easy).
River and clouds are the rulers of this world
and they move on in their own time, unbidden.
Tune to a key that sings of endlessness, even though
no one here knows anything of that song.
For emotion is born from time and loss:
In timeless halls is no such thing.
No such thing but endless dance and bliss.
If the summer never ends
It will be a hard winter, here.
—
Marginalia
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged acceptance, art, comments, Dinas, fragments, human endeavour, landscape photography, May morning, Mid Wales, mind, openness, Poetry, spring, striving on May 24, 2017| 1 Comment »
MARGINALIA
below this turbulence:
slow, vast, are the currents.
Knotted threads soften, unwind
(As morning mists
In curling, upward sun).
The ghosts we hold most dear,
Those haunted voices we always hear,
That diffuse the endless night-
They come and go
As if they owned the place,
As if they mattered more.
They are so tiring,
These endless stumblings
Proudly towards truth,
Where simple goodness would suffice.
The broken-nailed, mad eyed dreamers,
The demon-fed preachers.
For we tumble towards a close,
And that is always and only certain.
Here, is the benign patience of Spring
Come again to remind us
That warmth will split the hawthorn blossom
(And the hills already drunk and hazy on it).
Just one sunny day,
and all we dream of
is summer.
A slow dance of swallows,
lambs and birdsong,
One blue warm billowy morning in May,
enough to banish all the long months
Of winter, to open and relax,
To build a nest
As if it were forever.
—
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