Ancient moss carpets 

Rocks and rotting hornbeam roots

Stationary flows 

Dreams of clear blue skies

Seem dark and cold when compared 

To these clear blue eyes

Watching years go by

Lost to cloudy horizons

I remember here 

We can still chase frogs

Through we’re not in the forest 

Embracing constraints 

Sunny showers shine

Through prisms and scatter in

Iridescent bows 

Iron eyelids droop

Falling heavy and slowly

Drift in slumberland 

Silent butterflies 

Metamorph from cold cocoons

Their heart beat wings shine 

Low orange storm clouds 

Rising in the fearsome north 

Following us home 

A card up a sleeve

A white rabbit in a hat

Coins into thin air

Tired broken wings

Bounce against the window pane 

Another trapped wasp

It’s only the rain

Slipping through open fingers 

And out of our hands 

Down this cul-de-sac 

Topiary stunted hedgerows 

And stagnant puddles 

Wild blackberry blossom 

Spills over grown dusty paths

You can take but one 

Grey clouds in white skies

Holding streams of rain inside

White clouds in grey skies

Behind in between

Separated underneath

Hidden lost useless

Stones wobble and rock

Boulders ready to topple

A balancing act

Soggy sea mist shrouds

The long lost mountain passes

I ran for my life

If we could see stars

Or the full face of the moon

They would be the same

As we approach near

To the black Welsh mountainside

I hear them calling

Shapes and patterns drift

Red line on the horizon

Lava sunset clouds

Sockets connecting

Words escaping without thought

Silent hearts beating

Long July evenings

Reveal their secrets slowly

Just like an old friend

Long shadows stretching

Across the fields and canals

Like time travellers

Freshly mown thatching

Soft and warm between my toes

Summer smells of grass