First Maeve, Now Seamus
First Maeve
and now Seamus
Their spirits have left this land
that I still inhabit
I cannot carry their mantle
No, nay, never
Just keep writing
Give people a reason to read
I’m not the raconteur
or Nobel Prize winner
Just in the land
where they are no longer
They touched your lives
altered your world
That won’t change
but you will
She wove a tale
made you feel, laugh
He wrote with passion,
touched and taught you
They gave us a richer world
They shed the gifts they were given
They bled so that we could drink
They died but not in our hearts
Goodbye Liscannor
The brilliant sunshine has returned to bid me farewell
Waves are lapping, not crashing as before.
The mighty Atlantic takes on the deep blue of the sky
Forms a sharp line to define the horizon.
Magpies returned a few days ago from their summer haunt
To join the jackdaws, pied wagtails and chatty starlings.
A giant ladybug beckons me at the start of my walk
She is a big smooth river stone with a smile on her face
People park by the school to get a better look at the castle ruin
They hurry away with their cameras en route to the Cliffs of Moher.
A little car pulls up on the curb by the church and the window comes down
What time is Mass, do you know? Not sure, eleven or twelve I think.
My only other conversation is with a horse, just before I reach the little harbor
He wants a treat. He insists. He taps his foot on the ground. Again and again.
I haven’t got anything for you I say. But I’ll try to come back with a carrot.
Or a sweetie? Do you want a sweetie? His ears perk up. Yes, a sweetie he says.
March Moon
March moon is rising
higher and higher
Clearing the clouds
now blue, once on fire
Giant and glowing
The Way, it is showing
This is east
I am Luna
A perfect ball
Oh Fortuna!
Full as can be
over jagged mountain ridge
It is magic to see
for this world, a bridge
Follow me, she says
I will bring you home
You won’t go astray
or ever be alone
The Wind
it whistles around the windows
and roars down the chimney
the wind
it brutishly bends the bushes
and defeats the gulls
the wind
it chases the young hare
into its meagre wet form
the wind
it darkens the sea
and whips up the white caps
the wind
it blows torrents of water at us
from the angry Atlantic
it switches around
and pelts the red wooden door
the wind
the black night has fallen
and window frames tremble
the wind
there is no let up
of the ceaseless battering
the wind
it howls and bellows
I rule your world
The Wind
The cows meander to all four corners
of their field throughout the day.
One noisy machine breaks the quiet
Another rumbles by to bale the hay.
A hare bounds in to nibble dandelions
in the lush seafront cow’s field.
He goes practically unnoticed
There’s plenty of room, no need to yield.
The horse I decided to call Star
has made a sudden return.
How did he and his owner know
for him I did secretly yearn?
But wait—it appears there’s a companion
He’s got a new horsey friend.
Obscured somewhat by the wavy grasses
his coat of dark brown shines without end.
He handsomely sports a broad white stripe
down his long majestic nose.
A welcome addition he is indeed
as my eclectic menagerie grows.
No sooner do I begin to enjoy
my noble equine neighbors
Who certainly do spice up the landscape
with their vanilla and chocolate flavors
A beautiful paint to make a trio
has mysteriously been trailered in.
Will the other boys be standoffish as his
patches of chestnut and white contrast him?
I must not forget the gulls often gliding
above the sea and fields bordered by rock.
Along with the tiny and precious pied wagtail
who comprise my magnificent stock.
Last but not least in the animal kingdom
there is one more arrival
Perhaps to the jackdaw, who has been absent this morning
it will be an unwelcome rival?
The magpie has finally come back
to Clare from wherever it did roam.
The scene is now complete in Liscannor
a beautiful place we all call home.
