Una hora menos

  Tethered Tethered to this land of family Of grandchildren and grandparents Tied by bonds of loyalty To the future and the past.  Gone the days of new frontiers That seemed to stretch limitless Now firmly anchored in the hearth By a Vestal fire that never dies.  To reside, remain and stay To cleave, adhere and never stray Joy in familiar sounds and smells Assured by local Angelus bells.  All travel now in the imagination Gone the tedious queues in airports Now the heart grows still, content  Absorbed, consumed, passions spent. 

  Slowly, slowly then suddenly Slowly, slowly then suddenly  The dam of hurt and pain Building over many years Had burst upon a sleeping city.  Angry workers with naught to lose Burnt down the factories where they toiled For long    hours over many years Sensed elation at the conflagration.  The bosses fled to guarded houses Which had been abandoned By the guards and servants Now fending for themselves.  The wealthy Tsars of Wall Street Started reading up the Romanovs To glean what history taught When the poor had cried ‘enough’.  Gravity can be defied at first But ultimately it will conquer  Money simply buys more time Til time and wealth are spent.  Money is the least of it As people fight for bread Snaking queues in Central Park From morning until dark.  Jesus said in measured tones Two thousand years ago Those with ears might listen up And those with eyes might learn.  Very slowly then so fast Like a fissure in the ice All ...

  Sweet bitter month of July Sweet bitter month of July The heat continues to build The evenings still balmy  Nature lets out a slow sigh.  The peak has been reached And the zenith achieved The evenings pull in sooner Than we might have believed.  Fierce growth has been halted Now the orchard matures The harvest approaches On the turn of the year.  Seaside towns invite mists And kids on the beach An Irish summer isn’t sure To march forward or backwards.  Soft low hanging clouds  Baptize the Bay Along the beach in Killiney Beyond Shankill and past Bray. 

  Mourning man already The earth is mourning man already Though not yet a century Since the last man took a ragged breath Of poisoned air on a wretched landscape.  Hard to overlook the harm he did Destroying land and sea and living beings Sparing nothing not even self Buried in a grave he sadly made.   The universe never will cease to mourn What he brought from nothing Humor and shared laughter Compassion and the love of others.  The magic in a note of music The ecstasy of exquisite art The care of a mothers love The pursuit of timeless truth.  Now the light has been extinguished No different to black holes that die Man came and saw and conquered  He lit the skies for a few short hours.  The energy still spreads beyond the skies Way past our solar system through the galaxies Eternal witness to the noise we made The tears, the fun, the helpless laughter. 

  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 imagi...

  I can stand the heat I can stand the heat no longer  Colors have been stonewashed by the light Leaving only blues and whites  Uncensored by the midday bright.  Lead me back to my own soft home Where rinsing rain tidies like a comb Where scrambled clouds keep alive a hope That change will come and come again.  Where sky and skyline change each day With shadows swapping by the hour Where sun is dappled and discreet Fresh complexions nod to our native skin.  A land where mists are soft and welcome Greet the stranger down the boreen The gentle soul is free to wander A nuanced land beloved and tender.