On the Hill

 On the Hill

On the hill above Killiney

In the gap between the trees

A hidden view just opens up

That looks down to the sea. 

A bay of beauty lies below

As broad as Naples on the Med

And leads the eye to Bray Head

The gateway to the Wicklow hills. 

The sunlight filtered by the trees

Dappled light tween the leaves

Invite us to admire the hues of

Dancing tree tops in the breeze. 

Nettles fight with ferns for space

Along the path to a granite face

The lofty trees provide a canopy

For birds above we cannot see.  

A little lung outside the City

A patch of green that’s very pretty

Loved by dogs and their masters

Across the city nowhere happier.  

The tall fir trees and sturdy oaks

The lacework of light on the forest floor

Refreshing shade on a sunny day

These precious moments in May.  

I stop a moment to listen to the thrum

Of birds that sing, gabble and squabble 

Above the secret paths among the woods

Where children play with wild imagination. 

Up and up we climb the concrete steps 

That lead us to the obelisk surrounded

By grass turned yellow by the sun

Above well tended lawns and villas. 

Stately homes looking down 

Behind high gates and cameras 

Guarding beaches with white necklaces

Of waves that frame the coast. 

The path leads down to an old bandstand 

Echoed music of ancient Sundays

Overlooking the Druids Chair where

Jim and I went drinking after hours. 

Down to the cafe in the clearing

With half heard chats of trips abroad

Of weather in Nerja and daughters weddings 

Babysitting plans and Leaving Cert study. 

I wave to Dee with six dogs on a lead 

Dazzling bright clothes, dressed to the  nines

Wearing rep lipstick, here for a chat,

A cheery wave and off she pops. 

 

Thirty minutes every day 

Of seeing, hearing, smelling, touching

A poorly kept secret yet not overrun

Our tiny piece of heaven under the sun.