Edges of Wales
Stalking the blind lanes, striding to the hill
top before daybreak, often I’ve ached at the sweet chill
of spring light glittering through an intricacy
of leaves, when, in its precision of green, every tree
turns candle. With a series of airy, sharp surprises
crow’s wings fold pearly heaven. Then the full sun rises,
polishing the view – stones quick and wet as steel,
glitter on a cobweb, gravel under my heel.
An interview: Imagination Redeemed to Impact the World
What is a prunus?