I have walked in Annwn
for long with you and your king.
I have sung of its spoils and despoiling,
tracked down its despoilers –
I have killed the knights,
the heroes, I have murdered Arthur
with the lonely bare hands of my songs.
I have felt my way back through the darkness
with broken finger bones with the help of the ghosts
of the witches, the giants, the ancient animals
to the apple tree in my garden beneath
which I will bury only the true king.
You and he my only sovereigns.
I have returned with blood on my face
to the innocent plants, the birds, the bees,
to learn to speak the languages
of small and intricate things.
I will walk with you through the summer
and learn of the scopa of mining bees,
the pollen baskets of honey bees,
styles, stigmas, stamens, the intimate
places of each of flower where they feed.
Together we will heal beyond the battlefields,
the battle of Summer and Winter Kings.
I will walk with you beautiful Creiddylad,
fly with you on butterfly wings.
This poem gives voice to my commitment to walk with Creiddylad, a Brythonic goddess of spring, flowers, birds, insects, and seasonal sovereignty through the summer months, whilst she is married to Gwythyr ap Greidol, Summer’s King, rather than mourning Gwyn ap Nudd, Winter’s King, who is sleeping his sleep of death in Annwn.