The Cruellest April

My favourite photo of Wales:
shepherd leading dog
on the drovers' path above Glascwm,
the man's face a life-mask
of dirt and devotion.
Behind them Gwaunceste looms:
trees give out, then fields
to the bald slope, bare hints
of blue in the grass's green.
Last month foot and mouth
invaded Painscastle:
what are the portraits now?
The woman stoic;
men head in hands at the hearth;
the girl of eleven
taken to neighbours, screaming.
Tears freeze, come down as snow:
how many seasons burn
in newsreel minutes?

by Richard George

Comments (1)

how can you comment on a poem like this when it is so obscure? ? ? ? So much of J. B.'s stuff is like this,