Aston on Clun Ramble

28/01/15
Gusts of whirling hail-balls white,
surround, then drift away,
sun peeps through and glitters bright
upon the little brook,
runs through the field
(and take a look –
wild snowdrops,
the first we’ve seen this year –
later glimpse them here, and there
and yet again, some more)
to join the twirly, swirly
speedy little river Clun,
sharply meandering along the edge    
of the flat flood-plain,
(eroding cut banks) –
fields of tufts of half-dead sodden grass,
frills of hills a fringe
and broom-like trees stand sentinel
so still except their tops
swaying in the whirling wind;
young cattle in one field – cross with care –
watchful, frisky,
mothers come to guard,
and sheep that rush away en masse,
when we’re spied –
a cantering band;
cross the single track railway line –
‘Heart of Wales’
[‘STOP! LOOK! LISTEN!’]
then near a small weir,
the track stops –
so the map says,
so the barbed wire says,
and so, return
with a little diversion on a lane
and more fields
(three stalking nosey sheep
with big curly horns in one);
exploring, rambling loop completed,
cheeks tingle, sharp air gently abrasive.