And Here We Are In Wales


This is a grey place, 

grey slate, grey granite,

grey houses built of both.

And it rains a lot,

vertical, horizontal, 

or swirling rain

falling greyly 

from heavy misty clouds.


But when caught by a sunbeam

it makes glistening slides 

shimmering across the slate 

and falls in bright white tails 

or snakes like silver

where the mountains leak it

to spill heavily over rocks,

its foaming, frothing, yellow ruffed 

cascades catching rainbows as they crash

then spitting them back out 

in a fine spray of colours.


And now at night there's no grey 

in the dark blue, black sky 

filled with gold and silver twinkles.

No grey at all in this place now,

there's no denying.


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