Lost in mist on Pen Y Fan

Can you hear the Roman Legions marching,
drumming shields and shouting latin curses
at writhing hoards of Ancient Britons,
their white robed priests screaming furies?

Trembling heather? Shadow’s flicker ?
Through the mist a craggy fissure forms.
Druidic runes, carved on moss capped stones.
This place where history’s march is broken,
the secret gateway through the mist of time.

"Imbibe a mistletoe and mushroom brew.
Break an amber amulet lay pieces in the dew.
Catch a shaft of silver moonlight, cast it on the shards!
Smear woad – pure blue .
Dance, naked till you’re spent and wait! "

The mist begins to clear.

Clashing swords and shining shields.
Death’s harvest yell is heard
as a Roman javelin
pierces your heart!

Chris Wyatt Oct 2006