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Poem	called out by the sun this easter saturday morning i'm sitting on a bank in pistyllgwyn (house of the sacred spring) against a tall oak (close to a daffodil-clump) overlooking the road between brechfa and abergorlech on the west side of the valley of the afon cothi reading a poem by taliesin from the sixth century (the first poem in the oxford book of welsh poetry in english) which begins there was a great battle saturday morning and i have just reached the line and when i'm grown old with my death hard upon me when my youngest son charges up the bank and attacks me with his plastic sword and sticks it in my heart then sits down by my side to succour me
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