when the horse when down, when you read glyn hughes?
the field is flowers now, grasses,one patch
of purple thistles
it is said most things have feelings, so
we walk the lane, wild now, watched the
water beetles, swallows dip.
memories crowding in, i talked too much.
there were several visitors, some picnicked
by my gate.
then, the kettle broke.
i will remember you.