Poem

St David's in the Dell

The cathedral is built on a slab
of copper rock. A Priest raises
his arms, his vestments blooming
white, like a flower on a stem
of wild garlic, smirched with black fur.

Like a roistering gang of badgers
the congregation head for the cliff.
They stare down at the seals
which swivel and dive, overflowing

into the waves. Bellies up,
they gaze back at the gazers
as if telling them: this
will never be your game.

Eluned Rees
Bradford On Avon, UK

Began a teaching career, ended when I got involved with a women's direct action against the arms trade. Moved to Wales and became a dry stone waller, and eventually a psychotherapist.
Gave it all up and went back-packing, and these days I try to keep travelling...

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