Sixth of June

A sky of lumpy porridge
A Misty mountain top
The bushes dancing every which way
Their gyrations will not stop
It is early Summer
Who’d be a seagull
Out across the estuary
A loner
The nights dull
The early flowers have been cut short
Petals spread around
Torn apart by hectic winds
And now cover the ground

Awelfa’s alpine garden
Weeded edges look
Tidy and creative
Like the pictures from a book
The night is coming closer
Rain lashing at the pane
We need to put the heating on
Yes put it on again