Going Home

On the train
Going home To Ballymote
Remembering other trips     
Years ago
The endless distance between Boyle and Ballymote
After Boyle get your bag
Put on your jacket
Sit down and wait
Then looking out on the moving scene
things became familiar
Keash Hill
The Keash Road
The Gurteen Road
The nursing home
and the Castle
When you reached the castle
You were there
The carriage you were in
Was always miles down the platform
You got out and looked down towards the station
Daddy always stood
In front of the station house
Proud and tall
Strong and straight
Watching and waiting and watching
Till he saw you
He did not run to meet you
Just stood and watched
Until you reached him
smiling he would offer his cheek for a kiss
And you were home

August

August now gone

and the hope of warm sunny days

warm balmy nights, with it

The days draw in

Mother nature prepares herself

for cold and wet and wind

Innocents start big school

and others start again

like swallows 

feeling the air under their wings

The rich abundance of fruit and grain

is being harvested and stored

some are born

some are gone

Life renews itself in summer

to lay store for winter needs

God grant that none will want this winter

for heat or food or love

and deliver each one safely 

to the glorious promise of spring

The Perfect Gift

This morning snuggled in my bed,
wrapped up warm in a cosy duvet
Hesitant to greet a morning full of frost and cold
I read about “Miss Violet”
and I was back there again
Beside the fire across from you
With tomatoes bananas fruits and cheese
And the inevitable brown bread
The delightful taste of the last mouthful of wine
Warmed slowly between my hands
your head bent over the book
reading
of trees and toads and mockingbirds
of being and being aware
drawing images with the words
and the moment was perfect
I was afraid to move my leg
being burned by the fire
afraid to breathe
afraid of breaking the spell
what a perfectly beautiful gift

52

Because I am 52
my body
suddenly
has declared war on me
bleeding constantly
coughing irritatingly
paining and aching in odd places
making me cry
last night
when I went to bed
with the neverendingness of it all
and all the time thinking
there are those
who are very ill
and have suffered chronic pain
for months and years
their lives
a neverending round
of pills and pain
and I tell myself
you have little to feel sorry for yourself
about