It’s St David’s Day, and they say Tri chynnig i Gymro, so it seems appropriate to post three photos, all taken in Wales.
In every town and village
grey stones
grey skies
Standing stones on the horizon;
the wind tears at wool
tufting from barbed wire
On my windowsill
a jar of sunshine
If anyone wants a full-length poem for St David’s Day, check out Hiraeth, posted a couple of years ago.
don't confuse the narrator 
I dydd not Noh Theatre
Till St. David’s Day in Wales.
Strange stones & tongues call to me.
;)
When I see or hear the Welsh Language, I seem to be transported to a land that is part OZ & part Seuss, and totally immersed in the land of Ancient Faerie.
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I wish I could say as, R S Thomas did in Welsh Testament, that:
“I spoke a tongue that was passed on
To me in the place I happened to be,
A place huddled between grey walls
Of cloud for at least half the year.”
In fact, one of the worst experiences of my adult life was a week’s “immersion” Welsh course. It taught me a lot about teaching and a lot about adult learning, but not much Welsh – I can still only speak “tipyn bach”.
Thanks for dropping by!
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