There’s always been people here.
Some left a standing stone
still in this tranquil place.
We danced around it
whirling in its magic,
laughed as we were lit by the Sun.
In the quiet of Llangyndeyrn
would sometimes grow a sound
to become a great drumming
and there was the smell of wildness.
They would lower their heads
to be stroked, then they’d turn,
gallop away.

© Anthony Fisher January 2002

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