Poem on Being by William Ronald Rhys Jones (Keidrych Rhys)

Looking out of the storehouse window
At the gradient through the firs
At the house built of river stones
At the tiled house on my ordinance map

Hearing the noise of three plain pullets
Upon a rainwashed cart
Someone emptying a bucket by the tap
And a wheelbarrow creaking
A wasp glued on the pane, that barrier.

Gripping a boyish pen, the buzz in my head
Inside harness hanging over milk churns
Our first pony at the station driveway
Feeling good and cheerful with nothing much to say.

From: http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/browse/53/4#!/20581611/0

Date: 1939

By: William Ronald Rhys Jones (Keidrych Rhys) (1915-1987)

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: