And the dragon hides in bloated clouds <br />that bind the hills in skeins of grey. <br />She bides her time till break of day <br />to free her land from jealous shrouds. <br /> <br />She rises from her bed of slate and blows: <br /> <br />a gentle ruffling, rippling breath to break <br />the straps of night time’s harness; <br />her claws snatch at the remnant whispers <br />to let once-muffled sunlight flow <br />across the beaches, land and lakes. <br />Now diamonds jazz the emerald grass, <br />gold glisters bright in sediment rivers, <br />topaz sparks on cataracts’ fall <br /> <br />and she returns to rest till next morn’s call. <br /> <br />At last, life stirs in the valley below <br />and again takes for granted her treasured show.<br /><br />Hazel Buckingham<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/croeso-cymru/
