Cynddylan on a tractor?
Ah, you should see Cynddylan on a tractor.
Gone the old look that yoked him to the soil,
He's a new man now, part of the machine,
His nerves of metal and his blood oil.
The clutch curses, but the gears obey
His least bidding, and lo, he's away
Out of the farmyard, scattering hens.
Riding to work now as a great man should,
He is the knight at arms breaking the fields'
Mirror of silence, emptying the wood
Of foxes and squirrels and bright jays.
The sun comes over the tall trees
Kindling all the hedges, but not for him
Who runs his engine on a different fuel.
And all the birds are singing, bills wide in vain,
As Cynddylan passes proudly up the lane
Not quite, but it was the first thing that occurred to me (not surprisingly) and also to Mr PB (more surprisingly) as we came round the corner of the church on our way home this afternoon and found our friend Geoffers, happy as Larry, cutting the grass in the beautiful grounds that on an afternoon such as this feel like a corner of heaven. That was the very first poem by R.S. Thomas that I ever knew, at the start of a journey over the years into the heart of his work.
A lovely end to the afternoon, as we chatted not only to Geoffers but also to the priest, who came out to see what thugs were disporting themselves in the grounds ... Real people for a change!