A ghosting wave
shakes the muttering
kaleidoscope of wet shingles
but
in the wind's afternoon
grassy ripples
music our rememberings.
A yellowing birch leaf
twists on the stream -
Is it we who are timeless?*
What brought the old
rubber tyre and the rusty tin
to mud-caked marshes?
The wall is a riddle
of lichen and black beetles
drenched in daylight.
......................
The voice could be the voice of the Tylwyth Teg
..