At_Last

My Wicklow G.F.E. McGuiness

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

In wheel worn grooves Such passings made

Through endless repetition Unsure grassy inclines 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 take 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 rack the planks With cart in tow Toward the dappled scene below

Frozen dream, nest of evergreen. House of snow white stone Long red roof Half in ivy overgrown.

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