as I enter the ruins of the Bishop's Palace.
The spire of Llandaff Cathedral is in view
whose melodious tones enchant my ears.
I am where the gardener's cottage stood
perhaps his spirit still roams the flowerbeds,
it's now a sea of green with slanting trees
leaves, flowers dancing in the balmy breeze.
There's no need to venture afar
when treasures are nearby,
thirteenth century ruins
framed by a cerulean sky.
There were bishops long before Cardiff made its name
and I wonder if they found their nirvana.
I watch a squirrel clamber up a tree
quite unaware of its history.