Megaliths Menhirs and Tewlwolow Hollows

Snaking down from the hinterland the ceaseless ancient river furls long to the dark mor of ocean- pouring through the rich verdant pasturage of the tewlwolow valley and hollow hills of home - this very same waterage being the one that the medieval peasants of Buryan mistook for the River Jordan when they set off for the crusades a thousand odd and even years back in blissful past pastures and meadows of golden mind - 

Flickering the centuries and eons flit by and crones archaic pass by unseen by eyes of yourn - the old meadow ploughed again and again - first by hartshorn hand of Beaker bloke and Keltek folk with stick and spoke the clods he broke - finding it good he camped by the wood - deep and clear and dancing with dragonflies and you could drink your fill all day - 

Spun the centuries as the world spins through space - blue the cowl against the ruddy jowls of the one-eyed wanderer and hail rattled and bounced off the icy puddles fore the leaf of spring broke the bud and the voice was heard from the beaks of the flock - Tattered cloak wrapped the huddled shoulders of the folk swarming through time and fields of golden grain - surging on - the people coming in waves - generations - a tumult - the people surge forth and the land gives them footage to run - trees loom dream and drop leaves eternal loaming the land with decayed sunlight resparkled next spring to sing again - crystal river soaks through it as a grete wyrm winds a way through lands of the singing silent sun -

Spinning sun hurls seasons to batter and caress the land juddering and sprinkling snows seeds pollens drops life-essences and hailstones - a twittering sparrow flits - flies buzz and drowze - the mead - the meadow - the dragon flie-a-drowze a-sparkle - drowzing off in the summertime meadow by the brook - by the river - the singing river of gurgle where wrens dance and hide secret in hollow nests and caves below the bank where the river turns and spins out slowly sending shales and sandbanks to break up the mosaic sparkling flow - 

Bronze children of your echoed past play here and splash in the river by the circle and play in the meadow and play through the trees singing and jumping off the great rock by the river 

Buryas Bridge Menhir

Gwidhen gwag yw ha idhyowek yn tewlwolow hunros - A hollow tree covered in ivy at dusk dreams - Trees tracery of twigs spread to the twilight sky in the valley - from out of the hollow flew a feathery old thing - it fluttered and flittered and flew back in again -

Nobody even saw it -

From the valley issued forth a vapor that sent me reeling hypnotized I spied my gull-quill pen and seizing a megalith for a rough Druidic table I scratched noisily at the parchment with brilliant quill dipped in dripping squid-ink - my propinquity-

Gulls rooked the crows and leafs dry spittle-brown sprinkle down and kommolek fog brews the Cornishe Sky to down-falling tewlwolow mist - molecules and myriads -

Ghostly riders troupe through the sky glimpsed only by badgers bats and lonesome crepuscular muscle-men creeping disguised as archeological overblown arachnid-poets of the blustering Western Marches -

You get a lot of them round here -

Vapors boulders flood-plains as the river-meadow shoulders a curve - dragonflies swerve over and when wrens flit kingfishers are sure to follow -