Iarlles y Ffynawn

by Meirion Jordan


Iarlles y Ffynawn

In the bright frame of a girl's dress

time stops. A breeze rustles the gauze

which might be a sleeve, or skirts.

 

Beyond, the landscape is very small.

Owein in his tiny, archaic clothes

- scarlets and greens – runs over the grass

 

and beyond the high wall of the garden

a few towers stretch into a blue heaven,

their flags hardly lifting in the light airs.

 

And that is all. A dog barks and falls silent.

The girl's dress moves careless as brushwork

and the man runs – but from what, and to what?

© Meirion Jordan