St David’s

Sheer skyfall, blue to blue,
plumb-lined from the heavens to the deep
measures a cliff, eroded from creation,
where only dune-grass and sheep may grow,
miraculously rooted as the earth turns.

We set out on a narrow path
littered with diamonds until,
Our mother recalled us to the peril, now set between us,
a black and gold serpent basking under the pitiless sun.


Image: Adder, by Mick E. Talbot, used under Creative Commons license via

This entry was posted in Holy Days, poetry, story and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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