The Wall

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A ghosting wave
shakes the muttering
kaleidoscope of wet shingles
but
in the wind's afternoon
grassy ripples
music our rememberings.

A yellowing birch leaf
twists on the stream -
Is it we who are timeless?*

What brought the old
rubber tyre and the rusty tin
to mud-caked marshes?

The wall is a riddle
of lichen and black beetles
drenched in daylight.

......................

The voice could be the voice of the Tylwyth Teg

..

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