Saturday, August 20, 2011

Good Morning, Betws-y-Coed

Here is the world on fire,
Sun or flames at morning,
Roofs ignited dawning,
Cries in bedrooms, smoke
At short-order breakfast windows.
Pity the children, widows,
The crippled aunts with one hand free,
And the anxious dogs barking, Liar! Liar!
And the diving ducks breaking the lake.
All the new men aflame,
Nothing the sun will see
Set them aboil and aburn.
Look, from laburnum and briar
Smoke is getting away,
And the sun clears the jacketed hills,
And the wild aunts concluding their tea
Pray for rain and cull their banished yards.

The railway is escaping.
The broken chapel rooftop, sleeping
Doves enough for level spirits,
Shines as good as gold.
Water is on the move.
The aunts are dressing, according to their merits,
And the roadway coils into the wood,
At least as good as gold and old
Enough for kestrels born to love
A tamed town, a tired, to remove
The sun with drapes and scrub the singing floor.
You hear, the slam of every door,
And the aunts march, visiting the cold.


karensomethingorother said...

I love this line, Richard:
"The aunts are dressing, according to their merits"

Loved all the burning, golden imagery in fact, cooled by the flowing water.

karensomethingorother said...

Betws-y-Coed is the principal village of the Snowdonia National Park. Covering more than 800 square miles, the park is a region of haunting beauty and grandeur, of wild rocky mountains, hidden valleys, cascading rivers, still glacial lakes and deep forests."

Even better, now that I'm less ignorant!

Alistair said...

Very Nice!

Have you looked at Norman MacCaig's work?

Here's an example....