MUMBLES by Hilary Wyn Williams

01/27/17 03:51:11PM
5 posts

I like this one too.

11/30/16 07:55:35PM
112 posts

I race the rising sun to reach the bay,

To be just us at dawn out on the shore

And grab you, one shoe off and trousers rolled

To beat the earth's rotation at the margin's edge.

This is the hard impacted sand of Wales --

Not the bikini-dented dust of Malibu --

Where you can run, all helter-skelter,

Pell-mell, windmill-armed,

The way you used to as a kid,

No grace or style, just pitching forward,

Cotton frock blown out behind,

An ineffectual parachute.

The cockcrow's whetted breeze has edge

That cuts through Nana's Fairisle cardigan,

Its every hand-wrought stitch

A barbed-wire loop of love;

So we careen, loose cannons in a jumbled joy

Until we reach the end of Oxwich Bay

Where now the sky is live with crimson lake,

And tangerine and rose.

We pause there, heaving, panting, double-bent,

Two question-marks against the morning sky.

Our wicked, dancing eyes throw out the dare:

Oh yes, we're going to do it back again!

updated by @americymru: 11/30/16 07:58:30PM