h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

This is part of a cycle of poems I am writing about my county - Merionydd. 'Abermaw' is the Welsh (and thus the proper) name for Barmouth. A place that has become a tourist hell in the summer, yet still retains great beauty and peace out of season. I recommend October as the month to visit. The leaves are turning red and gold up the Mawddach. The weather is cool, often dry and bright.
Blessings,
Matholwch /|\.


Upon the shore, I sit and feel,
The cool breeze upon my brow.
Where Land meets Sea,
And both greet the Sky,
I listen as the spirits dance,
To the songs of my ancestors.

Here the moon-driven sea,
Laps against her mothers feet,
And I sit nestled in her lap,
As pebbles that once were mountains,
Whisper to me of ancient heroes,
Of princes and the lost Cantrefs.

Where Bran watched the fleet,
Of proud Ireland’s King come,
To woo fair Branwen on the shores
Of Dyffren Ardudwy,
Where he gave her to Matholwch,
And sealed his own doom.

Where the last Prince of the free,
Gathered his men, a golden battle host,
To throw down the dark fortress,
Of the Saesneg lords.
Where for a bright moment,
We stood as men beneath this sky.

Here we began a song of hope,
To the heroes of Harlech,
That would carry proud cymric warriors,
Through dark nights under African skies,
And bring Evans 152 back to his farm,
On the slopes of Cader Idris.

Here, on this shore, the songs go on,
Of Gruffydd, and Evans,
Jones and Glyndwr.
The ancestors stretch back behind me,
Into the golden mists of memory,
And I listen, that I might sing for my children.