Caniad y graddau, a song of ascents

From Penderyn I can see north, northeast,
past the first hills and moorland,

towards the mountains. I’r myneddoedd.
Where else will I find comfort?

The old names stand all around me.
Bryn, pen, cefn, cadair, gwaun, fan—

they won’t fail us, they have strong backs
and are true.

The Lord comes down into this valley
into the front room and kitchen.

He hears the stove clicking as it cools.
He hears water running in the drain.

A cold draft leaks between the window frames
and under the doors.

They rattle and bang.
But he holds back the wind.

This is a psalm of ascents, a procession,
just to speak it is to arrive.

Maura High lives now in Carrboro, North Carolina, and writes mostly about the complex, always changing piedmont environment and its inhabitants. Her poems appear in online and print journals, in The Garden of Persuasions (chapbook, Jacar Press), and two chapbook collaborations with artists, Stone, Water, Time and The Field Index. Awards include the William Matthews Poetry Prize and the Terrain Poetry Prize. Website: maurahigh.com.