Winter Sunday afternoons
Winter Sunday afternoons
I pick up twigs and sticks
of ash and oak and also willow
from field, garden and outgrown hedgerow
that autumn gales
have torn from the trees’ tangled tresses.
I am blessed by this necessity,
this primeval labour,
this fundamental harvest,
twice warming the body,
kindling the spirit,
distant from the clutch of money,
the claptrap diatribe of politician,
the siren blether of television.
Yes, I am blessed
by this need for fire
that draws me out into haunt of heron,
the fox’s clandestine domain,
the snipe’s hunting grounds,
where frost-bitten air stings skin and mind
clean under the one embracing sky.
This poem was first published in the pamphlet, PENfro Poets 2013, Eds. Peter George & Brenda Squires, Menter Rhosygilwen, 2013.
Dave Urwin is a founder member of PENfro Poets. Some of his poetry appears on his poetry blog, jadedmountain.wordpress.com. He regularly reads his work live at local venues. He is the MC for The Cellar Bards, a monthly spoken word event in Cardigan.
Lovely pastoral, descriptive poem.