Sunday, September 03, 2006

Prints in the Snow

( Llyn y Fan Fawr Boxing Day 2000 )

We drifted up the hill
To where the lake lay hidden,
Folded in its side,
Following where the raven
Pointed, etched its wing
Against the upper slopes.
We leaned breathless,
Intent as the winds’ restless
Voices played Chinese Whispers.
One pause
To snap the icicles,
Frequent turns to scan
The Beacons change,
We left our mark
On the unwritten snow,
But the wind’s sharp pen’s
More powerful than words.

The original photos from this walk have gone missing, so you'll have to make do without the snow. It's just as beautiful.

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