the early spring daffodils are weather-tortured
by a wind still cutting like a razor.
Indeed, just a couple of days ago
snow made its last stand on the summit
and now grey clouds vanish like a ghost,
the shade darkening the golden heather,
it's my birthday we are back together
wandering in Wales as in the days of old
discussing Faith in the brutal breeze,
strolling up to the top of the world.
The town of Caerphilly lies far below,
each house with its own dramas.
On the other side is Cardiff and the Channel.
How I remember the innocent joy
with paper aeroplanes here as a boy
which glided gracefully in the wind
over bomb craters and verdant grass.
Oh my love, I shall recall this day
so that when my body is weak, bed-bound
my mind will be on the mountain again
with you admiring the panoramic view.
This is sustenance for the soul up high
near to the angels.. in the April sky.