Evening light Y Skirrid Fawr

Y Skirrid Fawr in the last of the evening's sun yesterday. This 'mountain' stands apart from the rest of the Black Mountain range, in holy isolation. It has the remnants of a chapel on its highest point and is also know as St Michaels Mount.
Skirrid Fawr
Just like the farmers who once came to scoop
handfuls of soil from her holy scar
so I am still drawn to her back for the answers
to every question I have ever known
To the sentence of her slopes
the blunt wind glancing from her withers,
to the split view she reveals
with every step along her broken spine.
This edge of her cleft palate,
part hill, part field,
rising from a low mist, a lonely hulk
adrift through Wales.
Her east-west flanks, one dark, one sunlit,
her vernacular of borders.
Her weight, the unspoken words
of an unlearned tongue.
Owen Sheers (our local poet)