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Working title "Cold Spring in Llanarthne"
Cold cracked leafless lanes sneak past hard forlorn fields
Where sheep show eyes all dark and filled with rheum
Wet whisps of cloud frame starling speckled skies
And Old men scream with winter in their bones,
But soon the sun makes promises anew
Of life and healing soon to come again
Redstarts cry to send the cold away
And old men smile, and think of springtimes gone
The seasons swing around, this is life's rule
And past must yield, as now must yield to then.
The moving finger warns of yet to be
And old men move to graveyards painless sleep.
