An Tamadan Mointich (poem)

An Tamadan Mointich[1]

From beneath the pinnacles of Crib y ddysgol

I recall the scramble of heaving breath

                              And aching legs

To the sudden shock

                      Of the vast air -

                                    The ridge at Crib Goch,

One thousand feet of oblivion

                           To the left and to the right.

I walk through fear to the remote unknown

Where, in solitude, I come upon a small plover,

                            Sharp brown and burnt ochre,

Who dances with wings outstretched

                                      And is unafraid.

Tim Beech[2]