AtLast_[07]

>> My Wicklow<< In the glen where we lived when Children such as I once dreamed To broken prattle Of sheep and cattle, Clouds were never Clouds of pain. We danced in nature's rain. Carting down the long steep grade - Through endless repetition - Uncertain grassy slopes forfeit Passive placid cradle songs To hardened earth's reply in grit. Rattling ditties of chips on wheels Of wood and hammered banded steel As horses took their time Little riders locked in rhyme. Destiny emerging A posted wooden narrow bridge Converging A span, in retrospect, of dream Just a child’s skip across a lazy wandering stream Hoofs racked on planks With cart in tow Toward a dappled scene below. Frozen dream: Nest of evergreen. House of snow white stone. Long red roof Half in ivy overgrown. Vintage proven windows vented Hearth's perfume to firmament And straying scent of violin Escaped on gentle valley wind Radiating humanity In wheel worn grooves Such passings made