For Gwyn
Four months without your presence here,
May, June, July, August…
you have pulled the hill-doors shut,
drawn your shadow
into your fortress
where snow is heaped upon the roof
and you are guarded by a vigil
of loyal, loyal hounds.
In the blink of your eye
the fortress turns –
one moment
an eternity in Annwn,
here May, June, July, August…
The flowers mark the stations
of your sleep – bluebells, red campion, ox-eye daisies.
The trees are green with your rival’s victory
yet in a yew grove I see you sleepwalk,
mime the making of a bow.
For four months I count forget-me-nots,
blow white seeds of dandelions
into the silent tolling of Annwn
and gather mugwort.
Four months without your presence here,
May, June, July, August…


Image Caer Ochren, based on lines about the birth of Pen Annwn in Preiddu Annwn, by Meg Falconer
You have written with passion and wisdom about what it is like to work with, be devoted to, have as a patron deity one who is seasonal. One who is hidden or withdraws for part of the year, who is an absent presence for months. During these long months you hold the memory of presence and promise of return close in your soul. Beautifully put, Lorna.