TEMENOS & Temple area of Caerwent Roman Town


It is a place set aside, made over,
where two worlds touch
as one acknowledges the other.

  To go there is to dwell
for a moment that never passes
but contains time out of time.

It is a locus of worship
in visionary space
built and enclosed,

In a room, in a garden,
or in the mind
where Rhiannon lifts her veil.

There is revelation, enchantment
when she rides through forests fair
and so here where the song

Of her birds is clear far out
over a singing sea, yet close:
encompassed in liminal space.

Water Avens


Geum rivale

I grew this, in dedication
by my garden altar,
sewing the seed
by the welling water
of Mererid’s spring
keeping the pot wetter
than I would
for any other.

The first year
there was no flower
but I tended the leaves
on into the winter
and now, with the spring
the petals of liminal colour
bide their time to open
but are suddenly here, brighter

In the mind than it would seem
from their contained power.
So I wait upon them,
each new flower
as it comes, finding a way
to be itself far from any lake or river:
A testament to a sacred space
where things are placed to be made over.

Bride’s Well

(Coed Tan yr Allt – a hidden place)

In these woods there is a place where water
Wells to a still pool in a cleft of rock
Like crystal, in which a sibyl might augur.

To enter is to inhabit a stillness as complete
And consistent as the cool water that ponds there
Beyond the ferns that arch from the steep

Rock face of the entrance to the cave.
Looking intensely at the face of the waters
No prophecy came but that I would engrave

This image on the stone of memory
And it would remain with me always
Welling in the mind’s pool, constantly

Bringing a blessing of Bride’s healing springs
And the tranquility such remembrance brings.

Mari Lwyd

To celebrate Old New Year (13 January) the Mari Lwyd came to the Prom in Aberystwyth.

Sang the songs in the traditional dialect versions:

Wel dyma ni’n dwad

Gyfeillion diniwad

I ofyn cawn gennad i ganu …

(Here we come, innocent friends, to ask if we can sing …)

Then watched the starlings settling under the pier at sunset,

Before a disorderly parade through the town

Culminating at the Clock Tower for more music and song

Blwyddyn Newydd Dda!



Eponalia: 18 Dec. in the Roman  Calendar
Epona on the shadow paths as dwindling daylight
fades to longest nights before and after Solstice.
These are the paths of transformation, of renewal
Solstice =
‘Still Sun’

as light shifts slowly from the stillness;
Epona opens the way along the paths
to another cycle of time, another year
Day length hardly moves at solstices, for light to grow, for green leaves to burst
from buds on every bough, from seeds
yet to break through sodden soil and spring

but changes quickly at equinoxes. brightly into life again –
Bidden out of the dark below
by the light of the risen sun.


Elenydd and Cwm Eleri

Eleri through the woodlands


Elenydd is the name given to an area of Mid Wales including the Cambrian Mountains and surrounding landscapes and seascapes. The part of it I know most intimately, both physically and spiritually, is its western edge, but I have also explored further east along the ancient trackway of Ceri to Arwystli. In the Fourth of the Four Mabinogi tales, Gwydion is returning to North Wales after tricking Pryderi into giving him the pigs that were sent to him from Annwn:

“And that night they journeyed as far as the uplands of Ceredigion to a place which is still called Mochdref (‘Pigtown’). The next day onwards over Elenid to stay overnight between Ceri and Arwystli in another town which is now called Mochdref.”

No-one knows exactly where these towns are now, but a stream which gives its name to a large reservoir below the mountain of Pumlummon is called ‘Nant-y-Moch’ (Stream of the Pigs) and this fits the general location of this part of Gwydion’s journey.

In their book Celtic Heritage, Alwyn and Brinley Rees compare Elenydd to Uisnech in Ireland where the Stone of Divisions stands. It is the centre which symbolises the whole. By no means as high or as spectacular as the mountains of Snowdonia or the Brecon Beacons, its central position between these gives it a symbolic significance, better appreciated by the medieval mapmakers such as Gough who, in his map of 1360, shows it as if it is higher than the mountains to the north and the south, through to Speed’s map of 1612 which gives it similar prominence. Many rivers have their sources in Elenydd and the whole area is a place of water, held in the peaty earth as in a sponge. The mountain of Pumlummon (‘five peaks’), is known as the ‘Mother of Rivers’ , including the River Severn and the River Wye. Up on the summit of Pumlummon, Cei and Bedwyr stood in “the highest wind in the world” in their search for the things required by the giant Ysbadadden Pencawr for Culhwch to wed Olwen. So it is a place of great significance both in legend and its importance as the source of great rivers. Further east waters run off this range to fill the reservoirs of Claerwen and Elan to supply drinking water to towns across the border in England.

The valley of the river Leri (as it is named on maps) – or Eleri, to those who know her – begins on the western edge of this area, where the river waters fall from a lake into the narrow gorge of Craig y Pistyll. They run for twenty miles or so to reach the sea through the salt marsh between Borth Bog (Cors Fochno) and the sand dunes of Ynys-Las. The source is a lonely place amid the wild splendour of the open mountain and moorland that stretches as far as the eye can see even on a clear day when there is no mist. The nearby reservoir of Nant-y-Moch regulates the flow into the river Rheidol to a small hydro-electric power station miles downstream before it joins the River Ystwyth in the harbour of the town of Aberystwyth. But Eleri is a quiet stream running a short distance to the sea and supplying sweet water to the local population.

Running westwards, away from the great watersheds Eleri once meandered to the sea through the remnants of a sunken forest, the semi-petrified remains of trees that can still be seen in the sand at low tide on the beach at Borth on the shores of Cardigan Bay. It is possible to trace the previous course of this mile or so of the river over the fields created by draining the bog, (as I do HERE~>). But now the last stretch runs in a straight line to meet the estuary of the River Dyfi and functions as a drainage channel separating the green water meadows from the brown lands of the bog. This sudden transformation from a sinuous bubbling stream to something more resembling a canal seems like an insult to Eleri in human terms, but her lost course to the sea is symbolic of the lost lands of Gwyddno Garanhir. For this in legend was the drowned land of Cantre’r Gwaelod, to which the sunken remains of the forest on the nearby beach bear witness. Walking through the stumps when the tide is out it is possible to imagine the forest alive with birds in the green leaves, though the present reality is rock pools and oyster catchers foraging at the tide line. Along the estuary geese overwinter and in summer sand martens build nests in the banks. Once the bog stretched north along the River Dyfi nearly to Machynlleth, though most of the northern part of it has long since been drained for farm land (as is detailed HERE~>). The small hills that rise from the flat plain all have ‘Ynys’ (‘island’) in their names, an indication that they once stood above wetlands. It was the realm of ‘Yr Hen Wrach’ (the Old Witch) who, if she visited you in your bed at night, would cause you to wake with the shakes.

Between these two ends of the river, Eleri runs through wooded valleys, only really touching any significant place of human habitation when crossed by the main road north from Aberystwyth at the village of Talybont where, joined by the River Ceulan, the combined rushing waters once powered a woollen mill. Along the ridges of the valleys around here are a series of hill forts built to watch the approaches from the sea. Though I have walked from source to estuary, it is in these middle stretches that I came to know and love Eleri. There are places where it is possible to sit watching the flow for hours without seeing another person. These, to me, are sacred waters, the well of life flows through me when I sit here and I am part of the flow. And it is here, in the woodlands along and above the valley, that I come to meditate and to commune with the spirits of the valley. The map of it I have in my mind is populated with sacred places to which I can go, on foot or in imagination, whenever world space or mind space allows. There is a place where the river swirls around a bend and runs over rocks making a music that I have sat and listened to, entranced and responded with a blessing and a kiss, which she took, laughing, and tumbled it away.

Here, often, I have felt close to the OtherWorld. There are times when the trees enclose me and the ground shifts beneath my feet and the wind blowing through that place is a spirit wind at once swift as an arrow and as still as a pond of clear water. Then, when I emerge from the woodland onto the forestry road, it’s as if I have arrived there suddenly from I know not where. So I come often to these places and follow Eleri from her source in the mountains to her meeting with the sea. And if she is always running to the legendary realm of Cantre’r Gwaelod, so too am I always walking the paths to another world when I follow her winding way through the woods.

(Adapted from an earlier piece on the heritage Sacred Waters site).

Landscape of Colours : GLYN CUCH


“ … yn ieungtit y dydd kyuodi a oruc a dyuot y Lynn Cuch”

“ … when the day was still young he arose and went to Glyn Cuch”

Pwyll Pendefig Dyfed

A borderland, a place
where counties meet and merge:
Caerfyrddin’s bright fields of green,
Preseli’s blue-brown intensities of light
Afon Cuch’s silver-blue stream
(call it ‘glas’ for blue, green, crystal)
running north to Teifi’s thrice-bordered flow
Somewhere here Dulas – ‘Blackwater’ –
(so many of these with variant names)
falls down to Cuch through a rocky crevice,
a meeting of waters from different domains.

Rivulets of enchantment flow
running across and between
parcels of land of different hues
from streams that spring and bound
scattering reflected light, blue, green,
flickering in forests on dappled tracks
where white-pelted, red-eared hounds
run with a ripple of light on their backs;
where Rhiannon might ride on another day
to Pwyll at Gorsedd Arberth, revealed
like a rainbow out of air: here, not-here, there.

The Well and The Stream

Ffynnon Sanctaidd, Llanfihangel Genau’r Glyn

Every time I look into the well the level is the same placid equilibrium: it never rises nor falls. No water is drawn from it these days, not for drinking nor for healing. Little rain runs in around the slate cover over the grill that tops the shaft. Around the edges a shiver might be seen on the flat surface beneath, the dark water inscrutably responsive to enquiry, keeping an elusive counsel. 

This is a tranquility that comes from a remembered past, dwelling on an interaction with the human world that is commemorated but no longer practised, though I bring it to my visits and ask a blessing still.

Yards away from the well the stream that has tumbled down through the woodland above rushes over the bank and crashes noisily to its channel below when in full spate, or ebbs back to a trickle after a dry spell. It is not constant like the well and demands human attention, so has to be actively taken account of, especially in times of flood.


In the well
the pool lies still
beneath the grill cover

At the falls
the stream fills
the air with living water