Invitingly you front the fertile ditch
Where caterpillar-laden nettles spring
And hogweed and cow-parsley's flowers froth
And sparrows from the hawthorn hedgerow sing.
Your wholesome beef and piquant onion's tang
Mingles with scent of grass we trample on.
Rough fields of ragwort, golden fields of hay
We see, and pylons striding on, beyond ...
We too lead on, by roaring highroads, then
By winding mountain ways. Your tea will slake
Our thirst, till loam gives way to Cambrian slate
And all our cares are drowned in Bala Lake.
Comments
jennifer | August 14, 2010 - 23:02
Brilliant! Really lovely and such great imagery about such a mundane subject,
J x
shoe | August 15, 2010 - 08:47
Much enjoyed.
Canary Islander | August 15, 2010 - 10:19
Good fun! - now where's my cheese and bacon butty? :-)
tessdavies | August 22, 2010 - 10:14
Tess Davies
Very neat and I love the rhymes - not easy to do, great.
ScoZen | December 19, 2010 - 20:49
ScoZen.
Enjoyed this.
This takes me back to my wanderings down unmarked paths.
When I get completely lost I sit and have a brew and a pastie.
Then figure which way to go.
Bala Lake...now where is that I wonder?
Luly Whisper | December 19, 2010 - 21:28
Mid-Wales. Lovely part of the world.