Darren Bank. Wales. 1995.

Before I knew it I was here.

Plucked from the chaos, whirling city.

Into the vast bosom of the Welsh country.
As the traffic slowly exits my head

The space dilutes the pain.


Rooting myself again.


Black and white wagtail on the white chimney.

Grey slate roof.

The house in a dingle on the side of a hill.

The eternal bleating of mother ewe to lamb.

The rolling horizon, the slow, thick, still.

Buzzing in springtime, primrose and daffodil.

Green, green grass and time to kill.

Sitting in a gnarled, old tree under this morning’s hue

and the sky that outweighs the land.

Full of promise.




Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s