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Ravilious Rules

Yesterday’s heat evaporates
taking with it the fierce glare of the sun.
Yesterday, sunlight glanced off hills,
danced on rivers, but I am used
to this gentle Welsh spirit
that now envelops the landscape,
soft green mist that returns to the hills,
softening edges, softening mood.

Curvaceous, a line of grey green hills
etched in waves of leafiness,
dark green towering oaks,
hedgerows draped with dog roses,
flat, rounded clusters of elderflowers,
the gracious sweep of the bronzed maple.
Tutored by nature’s harmony,
my eye picks out the tell-tale signs
of human intervention, marks
alien pylons astride hilltops.

Tall, straight telegraph poles
push their way up through trees,
geometric road signs warn of hidden dangers,
along straight, tarmacked roads.
The sign for Maesmawr Farm
shouts its rectilinear message,
tempting me with luxury lodges.
The arrow points straight to them.
Even the forestry commission
superimposes its orderly rows
on nature’s wayward curves.

But the rolling hills triumph,
pouring out their balm,
setting my spirit free,
tracing a spherical globe
and the unspoken
bias of the universe.

Julia Duke

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Becalmed

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The Pandemic

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Always with Us

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Leper Chapel - Mosaics of Time

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Bones on the Shore

We walk the shoreline down in that dark dip at year’s end, while life’s still slumbering. The beach is a graveyard. We clamber, beneath ominous skies, through cathedrals of bones. Beached giants, prone on the sand, gaunt skeletons, arms uplifted, feet still reluctant to leave. In the lifetime of my children, these dinosaurs, these mighty oaks have fallen, their forms sculpted by time and weather, yet even in death they hold such power. They lie, steadfast as ever, awesome, majestic, statuesque, garlanded with gifts from the river: soft green fronds, little crabs, bladder wrack decorating their fingers. For centuries they stood strong, hearing the river’s song: ebb, flow, winter, spring, tide and moon rising, falling, curlew calling, calling. We will walk the shorelines at that bright time of new beginnings, now we are awakening. Jan Armstrong Photo by Daniel Lincoln via Unsplash
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Solitude of Pines

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Dunwich Heath Cliff

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Ominous

Unexpected darkness descends With a decrepit desire for long absent affection, clutching at thin wispy ends with diminished thoughts and caged responses my deserted smile departed. Jill
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King of the Woods

Soft green moss and arching brambles With desperate nettles shooting upright to light. Dense, strong and stable, yet soft delicate and gentle A squirrel runway extending arms, reaching limbs Of sun-drenched lime, mottled light barely touching. Fresh, yet decaying hands of friendship, A ladybird highway knitted together. Beneath a silhouette of darkness, A planet in itself.   by Jess and Stephanie A video showing how this poem was written can be found on the Resources page .
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