Two more poems, ‘Buddleia’ from another train journey
And ‘Pwll y wrach’ ( which means ‘witch’s pool)
View from the train, no Buddleia here
Buddleia
bursting out bravely from crevices and chimney pots round the rough edges of abandoned plots of land behind razor wire and barbed wire on bomb sites
round broken concrete bunkers and crumbling wartime airstrips, army camps and waste dumps sooty spaces and looted places
into all these the grey green leaves reach their arms of new growth and so the buddleia bush embraces debris and decay and deathly ancient traces
and stretches up her waving arms towards the blue blue sky and without help or nurture or encouragement attracts with her nectar the humble hope filled butterfly
Pwll y Wrach
Cover image by Marc Jennings
‘pwll y wrach’
I read it in my book just now ‘Witch’s pool’ How evocative Did she drown? Herself Or her cat Perhaps Or did she use The glassy surface To reflect Her face Or read her future Or just wash her tired feet
I wrote this short piece when I read the place name ‘Pwll y wrach’ in Richard Gwyn’s marvelous book, ‘The Blue Tent’