Where the west winds carve
The leaning blackthorns
From towards the sea
Where the light is bright
And countryside hued in
Pastel shades
With cliffs pounded by
The ocean's might
Standing tall and proud
Above pristine sands,
Bays and beaches.
Town-like villages by the shores
With Harbours full of
Bobbing boats
Sandcastles, barking dogs
And little children playing,
Ramblers and back-packed
Walkers
Trading windy cliff tops
With the ruined might
Of castle towns
Asleep
By tidal inlets
Stretching far inland
Through winding woodlands
Where salmon leap
And rivers start their flow
Down to the Severn Sea.
Highlands and islands,
Moors and mountains,
Valleys and lowlands,
Meadows and marshes,
Sunken lanes with
Tunnelled hedgerows
Calming the roaring winds
Of winters often wild
Where blackbirds sing
And campions climb
With foxgloves and
Honeysuckle rambling
Entwined with wild roses
Under the ascending sun
Of summer
After the yellow, mellow
Primrosed spring.
Blue vertical smoke
From September village chimneys
Scented with burning oak and ash
Hazy afternoons
With leaves falling and
Eddying in a gentle breeze
As evening twilight darkens
And the last rays of the
Setting sun
Warm the grey of narrow
Limestone church towers
And darkness creeps with
The call of owls
Across the vale
In the still of the night.