School Gates

Haunted
by the girls
Disdainful glances
beneath
finely plucked eyebrows
Cruel thin mouths
spew
poison
at me
Now the grown up versions
huddle
in school gate packs
Sharpen
manicured claws
on the weak
and unique
Whilst their pups
in the playground
follow
traditional tauntings
utter
savage mutterings
at the girl
beside me

Ice melts :: Debt Grows

Ice melting slowly.
I create slowly.
laborious mark making
tenuous touches of pencil and paint.
More trees.
Determined
to explore the trees
to create more.
But today interrupted by the incessant phone calls
Demanding their money
with interest
beyond my means
veiled threats
But I pretended to be my daughter
grown with voice
to tell them
No

Afagddu

Afagddu stalks me
follows streams of rage
and despair
All around submerged
Hidden lost
Beneath bracken clad slopes
Their ghosts walk these well worn paths
Where...
I stand on bones
long forgotten
Scars indelible,
sketched on slate
Here utter blackness pervades
In the dying days
of the valley.

People

There are people down the valley today. Farmers in their four wheel drives making light work of heavy frosts. Checking on the pregnant ewes with their tiny parcels of Spring promise.
The man fixing his bright orange machine marooned in the white for the past week. Cnicht looming behind ready to pounce.
And then there are the small flurries of snow falling, promising us more frozen moments. My cat dances on the plastic roof chasing snowflakes. his coat whiter than the field below.
The machine is moving now.

The cat is on the stairs now

Cold

Full of cold today, both inside and outside

White, piercing cold outside. Cnicht looming like a Welsh Eiger, pale and threatening. Frost on the static cars. Only the blue car, four wheel drive and winter tyres, moves down the valley road. I am static, alone, making jewellery for the school fair tonight. Dreading the people, the noise , the scrutiny awaiting me. Dripping, stuffed nose cold inside. Armed with tissues and tablets. Headaching, bone aching winter cold. Warmed by purring cat and thoughts of summer playing in the village pool. Wrapping up tonight, fleece and woollen shields held up against them all.

Back to normality
The wrong things
keep us worried
Safely enfolded
in this
cold mountain
We resist the worldly
and settle by oak fires
warming the lost
and forgotten

Southern Flight

I miss you
in this land of late Autumn heat
Here the green cloaked trees
Cling on tumbling hills
Where sea meets land

In this land
the man with visions
twisted stone
Made great in azure skies

I dream of slate rising
from mist clad slopes
Ochre tinged mountains pulse
with the energy
I felt

I hear the buzzard's eerie cry
on distant winds carrying rain
and lost dreams
Crying to me
Come home
Come north

Where I am

Where I am
I watch as you
march over fields wishing
I could be the soft snow your winter boots
stride through
wishing I could be the frosty air you breathe in
Watch as you are lost
to mountains and mist and slate