ÃÛÑ¿´«Ã½

Available for over a year

The chestnut tree kept its promise-- autumn again, as they lie in disarray, invite me in a free for all, scoop up beauties galore and I feel blessed, from palm to pouch then snug, nestled, high hopes of childhood regained-- skewered on string, the hagglers aloof, from conker to conquered--alas a sudden jolt at the airport’s stark warning forbidding such frivolities. For the sake of peace, I release them – as they join deplorables: lipsticks, aerosols, scissors, all unknown substance dispersed in the shrouded bin, all asunder: obblyonkers, cheggies, those preloved but adrift, no sanctuary as they’re deemed enemies of state, and yet, in the Great War*, children’s small hands gathered harvests of cordite * converts for sovereign power demands. Still today, I celebrate anew these gleamers as they lie silent on earth– asking of nothing more than the gifts they bring. [Ian McMillan invites Menna to read the last verse in Welsh] Ond heddiw, dathlaf y pefrion o’r newydd wrth iddynt orwedd yn gyfain ar ddaear – heb ddwyn na gofyn am ddim mwy na’u rhoddion mewn crwyn.