Nantmor Poem by john appleby

Jawbone of ewe placed on the stone alter.
A fractured token singing of wind through a
quilted sky.
Dyniewyd's red rocks spread their fire through
summer's dead hours, stimulating blue dreams,
salmon fleshed nights spent under stars.

Now October finds these memories stripped bare
of detail.
Ochre stone outflanked by rain shoulder autumn's
acid waters through dark foaming ginnels.

Amongst the dead nests of stone a wood-pigeon
erupts into a mountainous sky.
Rampant ivy clenches the lime washed lintels,
rattling slates and swooning chimney in its
bitter maw.

Forever throwing the human shape of stone into
the scowling face of Yr Arddu.