Hands up for the sunrays that catch your eye
Despite the coming night and the frightening light
Birds on the water pecking at the slime
They dine on the grime of Mother Nature’s table.
Free and sublime and true and able.
Rolling through, scene by scene
Green blur and Déjà vu
Mean voices behind me
Sailboats and houses
An ancient castle;
A Hangover from the days of Mercia
Black cows and rough tough bulls with white horns
Sheep, as you would expect. Indiscreet woolen mammals
Attention to the ground
With no sound
Clay-clad riverbanks and marsh reeds
Less than half a cup of tea
My muse is electricity.
“Are you serious?” In a welsh accent.
Hearing peoples’ conversations
But they’re not as loud as my thoughts.
Ought to question. Beg to differ
The discrepancies between
What you think
What you know
What you show
What is real?
What do you feel?
Imagine. Realise. Dream. See. Be.
You are just like me.
“You will shortly be arriving at Camarthen.”