“John Ormond, Welsh Poet, Speaks (to one of Welsh ancestry)” Ensign, July 1981, 25
Today I feel I meet you once again;
Your words emerge like Stonehenge from a vast
and unremembered moment on a plain
like Salisbury, or nearer, in my own past.
Your mind in solstice moves beyond your days,
old, as is Wales, perplexing in its lure.
By very fact of being it denies
the death of deathless Owen of Glendwyr.
And when you speak, my father looks at me,
small and Welsh and he agnostic too,
but full of light as sunrise sky can be,
and deathless, even while he died,
as all the living, pulsing past I see in you.