Cefnder

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I wrote on June 27th of our brief visit to Saint Maelrhys church, near Porth Ysgo, and the building's connection with R.S Thomas; poet and priest. Yesterday, Jane bought me a copy of a collection of his late works, which was much welcome. In my continued high-mental-filtering state - see last night's scrawl - I commend a short poem by Thomas, which encapsulates in two, short stanzas, much of human attitude to life and the world of which we are the temporary - and not particularly good - custodians. For a Christian, he wrote good Zen. I pass this on in memory of my cousin, Andrew, who died this morning.

 

And You?

Davies thought life was long;
there was a sameness in the song.
Pugh thought it all too brief,
the fruit ripe before the leaf
 
turned. How is it with you
who have neither the greed of Pugh
nor Davies' lack of zest
for the red meat on the breast?

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