Read a Poem

near Todleth

in a field of docks rain falls on us

here are white hanks of sheepswool 
pegged like washing
between drying posts

we breathe in lanolin and damp

by clouded reeds a tatty ewe  
her off-fore lame 
lurches away with her twins 

her bag all lumpy with mastitis  

you said it wouldn’t last
we follow   
an orange tip butterfly over a stile


This poem was inspired by a cool and showery walk in April a couple of years ago. Todleth is a rough patch of upland just under the Roundton Hills, and watching weather and new lambs, we were on our way over Lan Fawr and onto Corndon. The poem is published in my second collection ‘How Time is in Fields‘ (IDP, 2019).