Brian Smith
Ffynnon Blaen-Egel*
"She never dried, see, not even in `76,
that year we had a Minister for drought.
But look at her now."
At Blaen-egel the plough has torn remnants
of the Dark Ages from its claggy red clay.
They decorate the stable .... loom weights,
a hammer head, an implement made of horn.
"Sweet-tasting as an autumn apple, it was.
If I'd known Yuppies were coming I'd have
bottled it back then, made my fortune."
The farm was pioneered for its spring,
no doubt. Deep-rooted water, pulsing
from an underground nursery of streams,
reached the surface above the house-hollow.
"Never had need of Aaron's rod on our place."
Though he'd seen a forked branch of hazel
twitch elsewhere, over liquid thunder.
Sheep mostly, on this raw upland pasture.
A brace of cows on the better grass, then
Section two Welsh cobs for riding or show
rosettes for their plaited manes and tails.
Three boys also, and the parcel of them
athirst for what had been so freely given...
the water and the word faithfully relayed.
Until the hill was savaged by the opencast.
"Clawed into her veins they must have.
Disrupted the flow of her and she's
likely going to waste. I'd cleave their
skulls if I thought she'd rekindle."
They've promised him the main; brought up
from the road at their expense. Still,
there's something wanting. Something deep.
that year we had a Minister for drought.
But look at her now."
At Blaen-egel the plough has torn remnants
of the Dark Ages from its claggy red clay.
They decorate the stable .... loom weights,
a hammer head, an implement made of horn.
"Sweet-tasting as an autumn apple, it was.
If I'd known Yuppies were coming I'd have
bottled it back then, made my fortune."
The farm was pioneered for its spring,
no doubt. Deep-rooted water, pulsing
from an underground nursery of streams,
reached the surface above the house-hollow.
"Never had need of Aaron's rod on our place."
Though he'd seen a forked branch of hazel
twitch elsewhere, over liquid thunder.
Sheep mostly, on this raw upland pasture.
A brace of cows on the better grass, then
Section two Welsh cobs for riding or show
rosettes for their plaited manes and tails.
Three boys also, and the parcel of them
athirst for what had been so freely given...
the water and the word faithfully relayed.
Until the hill was savaged by the opencast.
"Clawed into her veins they must have.
Disrupted the flow of her and she's
likely going to waste. I'd cleave their
skulls if I thought she'd rekindle."
They've promised him the main; brought up
from the road at their expense. Still,
there's something wanting. Something deep.
* Ffynnon Blaen-egel: Blaen-egel Spring
Page(s) 24-25
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