Up at the Maenllwyd -
funny how the days roll by.
I don't seem to be doing anything,
cleaning and writing and cooking
and sitting and walking
sleeping and waking.
Where does it all go?
The time so clear
nobody here
hours - hours
or merely minutes?
Today it is warm;
yesterday cold;
the wind changes,
clouds keep going -
in different directions.
Tonight a comet hangs over the yard
tail streaming in far off sunshine.
Down here, the moon throws dark shadows
and the windless sycamore stands against the stars.
An owl calls.
What was on its mind?
Out of the woodwork, curiously,
comes love.
John Crook, March 1997 Maenllwyd
