I hear the wind 
I hear Wales whispering
its cool fresh air seduces my memory
touches my sentiments
lulls my troubles entertains

pictures long lying 
in archives of my mind reappear 
enact snapshots of happenings 
both happy and sad 
high on a hill 
where I spoke alone with my dad 

such brush of things 
from decades gone before 
knock on the doors of the now 
becoming part of it somehow                  7th March 2015