For want of anything better
We climbed the hill at Narberth,
Bellies full, awaiting wonders.
But as we looked abroad
The land was empty and bare:
Void and desolate.
The clouds race unremarked,
The fields empty, no drift of chimney smoke,
No children’s laughter.
Because you have forgot the turnings in the road;
Forgot the choices, slipped down the easy paths
And left the future to evaporate,
All this has happened.
Once and again,
The tide of light recedes,
The storm winds roar.
There will be no shelter
But the future we fashion for ourselves.
—
simonhlilly 