Sunday, 22 March 2020

Estuary Thoughts

There was the wolf
Sitting beside me,
My fingers warm
In the fur at his neck.
We sat in silence
On the estuary bank.
The teasing smell of seaweed,
And sweet mud, in our nostrils.
With water moving
Gently below us.
And all the pain,
All the fear,
All the loneliness,
Went drifting on the breeze,
As the tide turned.
And the river,
That mighty father/mother
Of the valley,
Carried water
Of the Welsh hills,
Down to a forgiving sea.

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