A poem for Wonderwool Wales

Yesterday I took a trip to Builth Wells in Wales to go to Wonderwool, a wool and textiles festival which was so much more than I expected, full of amazing yarns, cool crafting tools, beautiful creations from clothing to decorations and even an “under the sea” themed knitted & crocheted grotto, and also a few live sheep and alpacas. It was great and I made a few modest purchases and picked up dozens of business cards and leaflets.

The day inspired a poem, and here it is. I used the meter and rhyming structure from On Wenlock Edge by A E Housman.

On looming peaks the Welsh sheep graze

In shadowed glen and green hillside

Beneath scudding clouds and sun’s bright rays

They chew the grass, quite satisfied


As golden daffodils droop brown

And newborn lambs leap, jump and skip,

The Welsh hill’s bride must shed her gown –

Dark winter has released his grip


And I, upon the road below

Drive home from Builth Wells with car full

And glimpse those sheep who cannot know

Their fleeces have become my wool


Where I bought it – there was art!

Creative crafts I want to learn

Beauty formed from wool and heart

With my purchase I take my turn


Beneath scudding clouds and sun’s bright rays

I sit with crochet on my knee

The wool which in those colder days

Once warmed the ewe, will soon warm me.

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