Church of St Deiniol
Llanddeiniolen
Yew trees
Witness
a small boy
with flowers
a wreath is placed on
Christmas Eve.
The removal of
dead flowers
the rancid stench of season
is emptied out of green jars.
It is early autumn
a bumper crop of
wild black berries grow from
the immortal fruit stock
shooting out of
the skeleton cracks
slate tomb stones
expose dark cobwebs
and the expectation of skulls.
A morbid hue falls
with rain
it's a dark day
the mountains feel
deceptively close
over the stone wall
and above the pylon hills
Snowdon is
fading
into sky.
Avie.
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