Heather Valley Ramble

View from The Rival, Llyn Peninsula, North Wales

View from The Rivals towards Snowdon, Llyn Peninsula, North Wales

My path rises through purple heather
At each bluff the same path rotates;
Winds and writhes, a noble king snake.
In diamond forms this path holds close
To the contours of a ragged coast
And empty deserts not far.

This route that divides the solidity,
In waves of rocks and moss and the crushing awe
Of mighty mountain peaks
From the streams below, high up in the supernatural
I tread.

We are living as branches and leaves
Alive together in one great tree, rooted
Aside this old heather hill
Where I once lived for the shortest of times,
A fleeting heartbeat of life,
Blinking as a child
And laying down fresh roots in acid soils
Amongst clouds tinged with
Wild and violet love
And the roaring storms and
Golden sunsets at the threshold
Of heavens open door.

Rambling blindly on over wilderness landscape
That offers greater melody in each step,
High in the elemental chorus
That takes me further from what I know, from
The black mirror.
Shadows loom larger and late sunlight
Glints in puddles thick of age,
Nameless again,
With wild flowers stuck to the soles my boots.

Body a lead weight anvil in valleys
Forged by giants
With mighty blows of the steel hammer.
This sunken expanse
With packs of feral sheep grazing on
Deeper shades of green
And a dead fox hung on a fence
As a warning to nature,
It’s bronze coat is coarse and fading.

I am electric out here with the sun on my back,
Warming my spine and opening my voice.

Whistling along
With the birds of prey, their
Talons clasping wires
And the smoke that rises from farmers bonfires;
Over scrap metal and great thistles
Woolly and white,
Sharp thorns mellowed by silent eyes.

If you stand and look, for just long enough,
You’ll see the old gypsies and ponies
And the chattering in tongues
And the old stone walls and great burdens that
No man could own.

Where each grass blade cuts a divide and
Pebbles form great oceans,
Far from the rules of the sane
And forgotten rituals.

I am carved out of this scenery,
Only my shadow reminds me that I’m here,
Involved and fleeting
Like a trick of the light in this
Cosmic breeze.

Each step I take forward I’ll only take back,
Because something unknown
Is breathing life into my lungs.
Who could this be?

A lonesome wanderer caught up in the
Heather thicket,
Where swallows march on high
Trailing vapour lines to peaks,
Where still nobody stands.

Overlooking Trefor, The Rival, Llyn Peninsula, North Wales

Overlooking Trefor, The Rival, Llyn Peninsula, North Wales


3 Responses so far »

  1. 1

    Ivelina said,

    I love reading your words out loud . thank you for taking me there …amazing place

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