By Lake Vyrnwy

A slender tree, vertical as noon

stands alone to the left of the lake.

It is quite beautiful; and close up

the resin swells, live amber glows, 

beckoning my touch, whilst the birdsong 

remains innocent of my passing.

I gaze over the lake's unblemished surface

and think of what has gone before. 

The houses, the post office, the parish church, 

the old Cross Guns Inn that stood at the heart

of the village, and wonder if the ghosts

that lie beneath are watching me back.

Momentarily, a thrush, deluded by a late

evening burst of sun, startles me as it

soars into the weak blue of sky; 

churning the air, a subtle motion, 

curled, then swiftly gone, as it

chases after a stray white cloud. 

I look back at the imprinted grass,

watch how it springs upright 

as if I have never been, 

then listen to the stillness, 

wondering about the years that lie ahead;

as back in the village of my uncle, 

my son is waiting. Ever patient, 
understanding of my need to tilt at
windmills in search of that one perfect line.

Perhaps one day, he will become a poet.

Already, the perils of burgeoning adolescence aside,

there is a certain whimsy to his thoughts;

and I wish he were here with me now,

for like me, he would bask in the glow of amber,

wish the deluded little thrush all God speed.

But the summer day to summer night has slipped

and on my lips lie thoughts that little buds must own the sun.

That destiny alone, this universe, and more,

this human scale, is not just mine; for what remains 

of my slight summer skills, will all too soon be 

as the singing wind between the hills.

Written 21st August 2018. For my son Charlie. 

Reviews

[Relic]

Wow, great imagery in this. Especially where the sun chases the clouds. Your sentiments are poignant and seem to have a reference for nature.

A beautiful poem, Beccy.

[H L Rose]

Enchanting! The image you paint is so vivid and the speakers feelings are so clearly conveyed.

I always hope to be helpful with constructive criticism if I can so I have a single suggestion, but I’m no expert and I could be way off.

I think the first line is very interesting
“A slender tree as vertical as noon”
and it’s one of my favorite lines!
Though personally I think the first “as” before “vertical” is unnecessary and it could be
“A slender tree, vertical as noon”

I love the depiction of what seems to be the history of the lake in the second stanza. It reminds me of a man made lake I used to live by which was made by flooding a valley who’s inhabitants had all been kicked out in order to make space for it.

I’m glad to have read this and am absolutely in love with it!

[Lydia Shutter]

Charlie is indeed fortunate to have a mother who will teach him to appreciate the beauty of nature and poetry. The imagery you employ is stunning, Beccy. The love of not only your son, but nature shines. Beautifully written. Lydi**

[Chris Shaw]

This is incredibly beautiful Beccy. It is a wonderful write for your son Charlie. I occasionally come across places where my mind travels back in time and I wonder whose shoes I am walking in. Wonderful composition and expression. A stupendous write and I haven't said that before on this site.

Chris

[jacob erin-cilberto]

this is beautiful...and reminds me of two things...the tree in the front yard of the Gutterson's farmhouse where we stayed in Vermont...and also my thoughts that occur often as to what it must have been like at the beginning of time...before there were humans.
Lovely tribute to your son, Beccy.
j.