Even the darkest day has golden birds...

I haven’t been to Wales for a while now but it’s still there in my head, the clouds scudding across the hills and mountains, the foam tossed into the air from the sea, the whistle of the wind, and the crack of the branch upon the tree.

Sometimes when I awake to the sameness of another day I wonder what’s it all about, what corner did I turn to get me here, and will I ever find my way again? Then a deep gloom fills me and I wonder if I can go on.

It doesn’t last long. I get up and brush myself down and go upon my way, about my business, putting on the brave face I keep in my back pocket for all the world to see.

Sometimes I think I'm living in a mirror, seeing the world palely from behind the silvered glass.

No, I’ve not been able to get to Wales recently, but I will some day soon, and really I’m there all the time inside my head.

Even the darkest day has golden birds.