Aber Bach

This afternoon I walked to Aber Bach,
With summer hung about me,
In the deep lanes,
Sluggish with a heavy green,
All slick and dripping with warm drizzle.

My mind felt dull,
Unwilling to engage the world,
Or even less to wrest dim meaning,
From the mystery of its shadow places.
Instead I sought only silence,
Somewhere to float a while,
In the silken luxury of nothingness,

This lonely bay, where solitude,
Availed itself on a wet Monday afternoon,
Granted me a wordless sympathy.
And in the rhythm of the sea,
Washing upon the shingle shore,
I entered a realm of complete detachment.

Great tide lined cliffs,
Weather worn, meadow topped,
And pathways zig zagging,
To blue-grey streaks of sky,
Formed the bowl in which I sat,
Snug while the summer rain dripped
From the brim of my hat

There were no thoughts,
No wisdoms written,
In the code of ages here,
But something of greater value:
Brief sanctuary, and freedom,
From the debilitating need,
To understand.

Aberbach
Dyfed