(for Gwenllian Spink)
A swallow-tailed moth landed on a boat fashioned to fly across the sea, a chrysalis had given birth
to a creature with shades of tropical timbers – the spirit of the grandfather, flying by day and by night.
A red admiral lay soaked in a pool of brine, its wings battered by the wind, their whisper echoing with a faint heart the rustle of the sea; the sun dried its tears – the spirit of the father leaving.
The shadow of a moth is crystallized in wood, framework of a leaf which flies.
The shadow of a butterfly is crystallized in wood, inspiration for translucent stained-glass windows.
A swallow moth flies far across the water of grief, intent upon return.
‘Gwyfyn gwennol’
© copyright text and translation Mary Burdett-Jones 2023