Longest day today, and a lovely day it's been.
Walked up along the Usk river towards Abergavenny, passing the beautiful windmill at Llancayo standing in fields of wheat. The lush and tangled undergrowth along the banks of the river provide an ideal home for insects galore, there were many cabbage white butterflies and a brimstone which is a fairly rare sight these days. Damsel flies in a myriad of colours,were chasing each other through the bracken and wheat fields that
are lined with delicate vibrantly red poppies.
The mallards were lazing on the rocks and the females hiding with chicks under the overhanging willows. A lovely radiant day, one which I always feel bittersweet about as from now on the days start to get shorter again.
June- Francis Ledwidge.
Broom out the floor now, lay the fender by,
And plant this bee-sucked bough of woodbine there,
And let the window down. The butterfly
Floats in upon the sunbeam, and the fair
Tanned face of June, the nomad gipsy, laughs
Above her widespread wares, the while she tells
The farmers' fortunes in the fields, and quaffs
The water from the spider-peopled wells.
The hedges are all drowned in green grass seas,
And bobbing poppies flare like Elmo's light,
While siren-like the pollen-staind bees
Drone in the clover depths. And up the height
The cuckoo's voice is hoarse and broke with joy.
And on the lowland crops the crows make raid,
Nor fear the clappers of the farmer's boy,
Who sleeps, like drunken Noah, in the shade.
And loop this red rose in that hazel ring
That snares your little ear, for June is short
And we must joy in it and dance and sing,
And from her bounty draw her rosy worth.
Ay! soon the swallows will be flying south,
The wind wheel north to gather in the snow,
Even the roses spilt on youth's red mouth
Will soon blow down the road all roses go.