The Welsh Hill Farmer Poem by Vanya Orr

Richmond,
I sat on the hill tonight
And I thought of you, still & cold,
Crumpled under the stars;
Cap whimpering a little, his nose
Pushed into you,
Wondering.
They were long hours.

But he would stay by your coat until tomorrow.
Remember?

I sat on the hill
My dog exploring the heather roots.
The hill breathing me.

If I was blind, I thought;
Not seeing the banks, cloud dappled,
I would still be here, where the sheep’s voices
Melt into the landscape,
And the water in the deep cwm
Clatters through me.

It always has
In the “beyond time” bit of me
And I am glad of it.

I sat on the hill
My dog leaned into me.

When I am very old
Or near that door into another time
There will be no binding to me
Of my folk.
I will walk the sheep tracks
As the great plough turns
And the hill’s heart fills me.

I will be clear
All through
As a thorn tree full of stars,
A stone gleaming in the brook.
The wind breathing me
And my Love coming.

And then it’s gone
But it’s not gone.
And nothing changea:
But stars shine in the tree
And water over stone
And my breath on the hill.

(Blaen-yr-Henbant Dec.1990)