81. The Light before the dawn
It's quiet now
The stars have gone to bed
The sun has yet to show
His yellow sleepy head.
The eastern sky's gone blue
An hour before the dawn
heralding another morn
Of beauty and of charm.
Reset the clocks again!
Wipe clean the slate and win
Another stainless day of hope
Bleached clean by blackest night.
And so the babe unfurls
To stretch in mother’s arms
Her dreamy eyes awake
To a world both safe and warm.
82. Autumn sunshine
The yellow leaves are blowing
Across the station wall
Down the railroad tracks
A north wind to their backs
Young men still wearing tee shirts
Old women dressed in shawls
We exit red brick houses
To the sea that opens wide
Autumnal waves race along the bay
The sea a greeny blue
Broken with white spray
Of waves that race from Howth to Bray.
Out of the shadows the golden sun
Kisses boys and girls
Who tumble out of school
With angel faces and golden haloes.
Light and shade, heat and cold
Arm wrestle for control
And autumn makes heat the winner
For another week or more.
Delicious, honeyed, autumn moments
Sweeter for their brevity
Leafy riots of color
Yellow, brown and orange.
83. Not releasing summer
Early September and the busy world is back at work
Children return to school a little browner.
The curtain falls on holiday halls
Seagulls reclaim their ocean kingdom.
The sea waters lap a gentle shore
Warned by summer breezes not yet spent
Camper vans still meander on Wexford roads
Seeking sites still open while the season lingers.
Stretching out a summer ever longer
Not willing to release the sunny promise
Or bid farewell to August heat
While autumn shadows lengthen in the lanes.
Sweet season of the soft farewells
We want to hold you closer, longer.
Won't you linger and pretend to give
What you desire but cannot deliver?
84. Stones
If stones could speak
What would they say?
Of homes and houses
Now in decay
In long abandoned fields.
Can you hear forgotten sounds
Of children going to school
The bedtime stories by the fire
As father fetches fuel
With shadows on the wall?
Can you feel and touch the table
Where the family sat?
When times were stable
Free of news of war
And time stood still.
Is there another world out there
Where Sunday lunch is spread?
And long forgotten loved ones
Make sweet returns instead?
Or is it time to bid farewell?
85. End of the holidays
The sunburnt we assemble
In the airport hall
Sporting bleached straw hats
Before more shopping in the mall.
We're swapping tales of days
Spent in the Spanish sun
And evenings full of fun.
Feeling no shame, just happy
To be still alive, reliving
Times that are old and happy
When life was fresh and moving.
We danced between the aisles
We danced on top of tables
Kicking off the shoes
Forgetting all the years
Exiling tears and fears.
I held her closely in my arms
Like that first date in Dublin
Wiser now but more grateful
For what life has shared and spared.
Our arms are wrinkled now
Her smile of folds and creases
Of joy and love and laughter
It doesn't matter how
We lose ourselves in moments
When time no longer matters.
We board the busy plane
And stow our hats above
'We'll do this trip again?" she asks
"Of course we will, my love.”
86. Time
Time bleeds out of every hour
With every year, a limb removed.
The beating hourglass
Drains the sands of life -
Imperceptibly flowing out;
Far, far away
From here and now -
To never flow
Back home again.
The tide has run
Without return.
Looking out the window
Of such short lives
We fail to gather, savour
The dear sweet moments
Dropping silently away
Stolen before our very eyes -
Strangers now and always.
The bank of time
Is running down
Deposits draining out the door.
That revolving door turns one way only
Spinning out our days
Of ordinary and not so ordinary lives.
Precious seconds
To be embraced
Now,
And now,
And now.
87. These are the days
These are days when the wind
Blows hard and harsh from the east
When the heart seems hollow
And the soul grows narrow
And the end of days is counted
As on a rosary bead.
The senses slow and freeze
The bones both shrink and seize
Through lack of heat and warmth
The end is surely near.
But lo behold the sun in spring
Paints shadows on the orchard wall
The veins start flowing
The soul again stands tall.
The welcome heat relaxes
The startling blue enraptures
And hope is rising like the spring-tide
While the warm blood courses merrily.
With the new year comes a reprieve
How quickly sadness melts
In sunny corners on dappled trees
That burst with flower and birdsong.
Let winter worry when it returns.
88. August evening sunshine
The August evening sunshine
Slants along the sandy Wexford beach
From between the woolly clouds.
The vesper rays run racing o’er the shore
Sparkling on the ebbing tide that rears and sighs.
The hardy swimmers cast a lengthy shadow
Paddling in the shortened evening of departing summer.
The ocean air smell pungent from the foam
The seabirds squawk their evening song
On stubborn rocks above the swirling sea.
Hard to believe what science makes pure chance
The odds to me seem just too long.
It seems more likely to be something else, beyond our dreams
Than an algorithm on a blackboard wall,
What simple decent souls call god.
89. Dear August
You stand politely smiling at the cocktail party
Pleasantly making small talk while glancing at the door
And wondering when you can discreetly leave
Without offending host and carefree guests.
It’s been a jolly evening but now it’s time to go
To find your scarf and jacket in the hall
Before leaving light and heat
For winters shortening night and cooler dawn.
Perhaps the ancient Irish had placed you right
In early autumn than in late summer
Already August leaves are yellow and have hit the floor
In forests already tired of this year.
The summer camps are closing now
And mothers dress their kids for school
In bigger sizes than the year before
As time marches on relentlessly.
Chapter 5
90. A new day is dawning
A new day is dawning
Bright light invades
Brushing past curtains
In the hospital ward
A night of suffering alone
Concedes to cups of tea
The chatter of nurses on polished floors
Their laughter parting the morning’s clothes.
All is clear and possible again
The fortress of darkness yields
To a village of light
As life pours over and in.
It’s always the simple things
The nurses smile and patted pillows
More than any consultant
With students in his wake.
The daily miracle of love and tenderness
That inspires and transforms
The pilgrim soul
On his fateful journey.
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