Light is the artist of being
there to bring out
landscapes where
bushes and great swathes of gentle acclaim
inclines that bleed
and then share
Tree tops where shadows are rolling
where torrents of greyness abide
Peering through Dolgellau’s
chimney pots sandstone
a summers day won’t be denied
from Awelfa on stalks
a green movement
dancing in unison they
form a crescendo of colour
Some march hardly move
some just sway
that halo of mist
rolls above us
it almost reaches the sky
Brighter by far
at the summit
a mysterious look
in its eye