Llwy Caru
(Love Spoon)
My ancestors spent nights
carving oak, steady hands
shaped promises
to an uncertain future.
Sailor’s hands,
hardened by callouses,
found strength to create.
Used knives to find beauty,
used beauty to build a culture.
A twisted stem that vowed his life
to her, survives the flowers we offer
today. A daffodil sculpted from oak
signals a growing nation. The daffodil
on my windowsill
still in bud.
Bethan Manley
