Dear Wales

An ode to a beautiful country

Land of copper crested mountains

and lake-filled valleys.

Of adventures to the home of

the red kite that circled the sun,

to cloud soaked hikes in wind so solid

it almost flung me to oblivion.

Through fields every shade

of green and rich brown,

streams run like veins

and trickle into churning rivers.

In nature’s hidden pockets,

one can sneak kisses by waterfalls

or frolics in thick forests.

Dramatic skies crackle with lightning

and dense clouds bucket rain,

my windscreen wipers worked overtime.

Land of proud language

and cemented history,

of place names longer

than my brain can handle,

of temporary traffic lights that

stay red until the brave decide

it’s time to take the leap.

A lovely woman served me

a Welsh breakfast

and called me flower, twice.

Of wild winding country roads

that test your ability to reverse

and mountain drives

that could send you flying

as panoramas hypnotise

and call you from the road,

breathe out, you’re fine,

there are many inlets

where you can pull over.

I watched sunsets

on gleaming sandy beaches

as waves rolled in to the pulse

of my quickened heartbeat.

I stood atop tall cliffs and saw

a sea that crashed with envy,

for it will never know the mountains.

I want to climb them all

and meet the sheep that graze there.

To delve into every valley and

drive roads I never want to end.

I have not seen you all, Cymru,

though I intend to.

Thank you for our brief affair.