Feresco,
Between the light of the nights sky,
Underneath waterfalls, the sky's.
Edging delight.
Are Amber flys which are mole hills.
Harper sits with fright as well,
Under pylons and Oscar night.

Y llew,
Y ddraig ar' blaidd,
Rhwng naws ac saws suriol,
Cadair idris.

Gwen glawiog
Pam clydodd
Diancrwydd, frainc.

Dan lledar e'i felt,
Noson dianc.
Rhag dy fodiau,
BYDLONDEB.

Gwen a fina
wrth tamad
Bur,
O' dy adloniant bywiog.

Nol at y blaidd,
Y llew,  
A'r ddraig,

A finau,
Yn hedfan,
Ar adenydd,
Llonydd.

Hydes
Blistered through
Tides

Waves of silver,
foxes crossing roads,
Passing through.

Excited toads.
Spalding Lovers.
Latch eyes;

Across wide open fields.
Barren desert towers,
are with them.

Open again,
Open again
.open

I've come to a sudden realisation that many think there's nothing I can do about this, about the situation I'm in,
a real sense of a moth at the light.

Very rarely we agree to start the day without a guide, a plan, or a case. Standing tall, knowing we have sunshine on our face, and water in our streams.

Seldomly we say I'm not sure what tomorrow, the day after, month or year will bring, and this is a good place.

Often we listen to people we never meet, about things we are not interested in. Can we plant a tree, cook a soup, or stear a boat instead?

Perhaps we could start saying the words; I don't know what today or tomorrow will bring, and that's great.
Is this a step towards embracing tomorrow for what it is?

Most have a plan for the next;
Day, week, month, year, or decade.
Is this pressing fast forwards on today? missing tomorrow, and the day after, And the precious moments,
in-between...

Multi coloured eyes,
Blue and brown.

Your snout nestled,
Neatly underneath
my folded arms.

Champions sense
for lighting up;
my dim days.

Never interested,
In sheepherding.
Rather lazying,
near river banks.

On warm summer days.
Wagging your patched,
excited tail.

Today a friend gained
Fur covered wings.

Let's hope your love cheers up
some of the angles dust.

Shep RIP 17/05/2020

Rustling winds of spring,
spread through,
half open oak branches,

Shrew peeps her button nose
throwing a tidy pile of earth,

Near the crystal falls,
Spring rain darts through
infrequently,

Before amber nectar eyes,
like a vale of intrigue ,

Hovering; a blue ***,
Chirpes questions

Sparks of a teale flame,
Pearl along aimlessly,

Through crowded doors,
and empty rooms,.

A rooster awoke;
today's flower,

Bellowing of frightened hollows,
along frictional caves,

Rattling off its distractions,
Ever more engaged,

Healing with its new sound,
Shrew meets the blue ***,

Pecked into the old oak -
Blue ***; Today is the day

Shrew; to finish enchanting.