Friday, May 4, 2012

Inis Oírr, One Wednesday Night

The sea by starlight to my left
Rolls softly in and slips back out,
Binds in spell my ears while dark eyes search
The sand for the least pot-holed way.
So grand yet scarcely seen, other than
Some distant yellow-bordered waves
Of colour borrowed from the
Late night streetlights on the mainland,
As slipping feet traverse the sand
And carry a most distracted mind
In unaccompanied steps past
The Lifeguard’s empty, bolted hut
In the direction of a house
That’s long forgotten as a home,
A fact belied by a child’s abandoned
And slightly rusted bicycle
Which lies in the dry grass between
The house and its surrounding rocks…

The beach lies back behind me now,
But still it glistens in little arcs
And crescent shapes of light along
The shore, and my path leads up-hill
Towards a graveyard that by day
Delivers spectacular views of life
And is the perfect spot in which to sit
And watch the sun melt into waves
As stars come out to welcome night.

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