Today is not a day for writing poetry. /

No lists of beautiful things, /

interesting or thoughtful things, /

just the sun, shining incessantly. /

Just the wind, blowing meanly through my fingers. /

No rain. Inspiration and flood waters have dried, /

and there's no music in my soul. No sadness /

either, nor boredom, nor joy. All the languages/

of my expressiveness are silent today. /

All except baking: in my kitchen /

- out of season now - /

hot cross buns are rising./

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    Dw i'n byw yn Aberystwyth gyda ngwr i,ein cath ac ein ci ni. (I live in Aberystwyth with my husband, our cat and our dog). Dyn ni wedi bod yn dysgu Cymraeg ers 2007. (We've been learning Welsh since 2007)


    April 2013

    Hammered dulcimer.
    Writing: books
    Writing: poetry
    Writing: music