Una hora menos

  Verses from a beach   The footprints in the soft sand Left by an ebbing tide Lead along a chilly Sunday beach As late September parts from view.  The summer has been kind to us Long and warm and comfortable  This morning chill though wonderful Comes surprising but expected.  The morning sun shines lower In a pale blue sky The lonely ferry passes Tuskar On its way I know not where.  It’s seems everything is leaving us Summer took it’s toll on folk we knew And yet the terns fly happily Across the waves along the shore.  The cloud that veiled the sun Now slips away invisibly The blinding sun rises with majesty Like a billion years through history.  Our Sunday Service is this beach Our choirs the lapping waves  All praise to nature the constant one Embrace a day that’s just begun. 

Westminster.  Christopher Robin and Paddington Bear Have been standing in line twelve hours just there To pay their respects to the woman who helped make Their fame and their fortune in Buckingham Palace.   Christopher came with Alice last eve And shuffled for miles and for hours Greeting old friends and making some new Keeping a vigil they saw the night through.  Paddington came armed with a hat With marmalade sandwiches and lots more of that In deepest Peru they’re used to long waits He stood to attention and kept his back straight.  As for the future, nobody knows  The funeral tomorrow then off they go Into quiet retirement, away from lights Into the country, far from city sights.  No more tea in the palace, no more jam on the lawn No more waves from the window, no more corn flakes at dawn This journey has finished, the flags put away The three may meet again, on some future day. 

  Rest now Rest a while dear pilgrim friend Reaching now your journeys end  We shall remember you in Waterford  In Saint Declan’s Abbey Ardmore.  All the paths and ways have led To a resting refuge where sore pilgrims Remove their walking boots And lay aside their walking sticks.  You shall enjoy the company Of those who walked and those who stayed  Of those who went before and led the way  Your evening chant becomes our morning hymn.  The seed of eternal joy now blooms  For your memory is indeed a blessing  For all who walked the pilgrim trail with you Shared bread and wine at end of day.  We too are on our pilgrim path  An unerring path that will bring us to you Then we shall enjoy a great Rioja As we toast the trail to Compostela. 

  The Queen is gone The Queen is gone, and with her too  A part of us has left, never to return.  For as long as we can trace  She was a frame that caught The arc and journey of our lives.  She never took the easy road She never shirked her duty  And when push would came to shove  She put her country out in front Ahead of rest or pleasure.  God was smiling when she made The new Prime Minister - For she valued truth and loyalty Besides she remembered when She mourned her husband silently.  From that very night one feels Her life changed, losing Philip Her early love, her constant friend  Her partner through the sorrows  And the joys of a regal marriage.  As she goes we face a challenge  To mourn her loss and feel defeated Or instead become our better selves  Proving all is possible to those  Who truly hope and deeply love. 

  Deserted September beaches   Deserted September beaches You are    just as lovely now  As three weeks ago When boys and girls with spades Gamboled in the sand.   The sun’s a little lower But the water now is warmer.  The midday glare is gone And in its place come pastel colors Cleaner, brighter, more intense.  Nature is still open  The shop sign on the window Says welcome all inside  Invites the more discerning.  We refuse to plan ahead  To consider next October Don’t mention Halloween Or worse again next Christmas.  No, allow us to enjoy The present moment now We won’t postpone this second We will resist somehow. 

  Overnight Overnight the autumn storm has cleared  And as if nothing the morning  Dazzles with a sky so blue and innocent  With only leaves to tell the tale.  On Killiney Hill pine needles carpet The winding paths and forest floor This summer has been long and hot And soothing rain is more than wished for.  Another day alive, thank God, We’ll skip the news and save our nerves We’ll drink a coffee, then another Hang on to sanity and good humor. 

  How I miss Oh how I miss the Roman rites The holy saints and martyrs The choirs in heaven with angels In a steady firmament.  Across the world in convents smelling Of sweet incense and beeswax   In hovels too the Latin breviary Was opened on each Feast day.  Around the globe in fervent prayer With shoulders hunched and heads That humbly bowed at every sacred call.  A universe of saints and martyrs The clergy and the laity combined In unchanging granite liturgy.  Monastic chant that rose above the pews  United by a language few could master United all the same in fervent piety.  In paying homage to the mystery Eyes could not see, nor voice describe The very essence of the reverie   But just as real as wind and rain. 

Beside the grave Beside the grave, no need for prayers Or any words, we stand and stare And keep the company for some minutes Of the souls that rested there.  It’s forty years, give or take Since they they came in coffins Followed slowly by the others  Beloved sons and daughters  In just a line a life is told A birth, a death, both unfold Loving mothers and doting dads Touching, poignant even sad.  Life in here is fairly fair Displays of wealth are fairly rare Most are happy with six feet No matter what their living reach.   The company we keep up here Is chosen by our date of death Our voices silent, our money spent  The day we breathe our final breath.  The clouds are crossing on the wind Across the blue sky of September Today we welcome the first of autumn  With mixed feelings for the future.  Gas prices worry and the cost Of food and heat and everything Yet for these spirits all care has passed A sunny peace that lasts and lasts....