Una hora menos

  Dear old Dun Leary Dear old Dun Leary All of life is here Every shape and size a walking All along the sturdy pier.  Little starlings chatter Hoping for a crumb As children finish ice creams Tossing them a cone.  Mothers wheel their children  Breathing in sea air Life jackets on young sailors As they sail their tiny boats.  Foreign accents come wafting On the harbor breeze Walking to the lighthouse All the world at ease.  The outstretched arms of piers Provide a refuge in the bay The quiet waters lapping The jetties by the shore.  Old women gripping bags From Penny’s and from Dunne’s Old men with fishing tackle Returning home with no catches.  Handsome foreign faces Pretty girls in shorts Pretending not to notice The boys in tight ribbed shirts.  Life in all its guises Rich and poor alike Where skyline meets the sea And dry land greets the coast.  Bright sun is warming The lower pier at five  Looking to the mountains Good to be al...

  The forest The trees filter a weak sun Along the forest floor The evening breath is cool The force of summer spent.  The Angelus hour serene The branches bend in prayer Pigeons coo the vesper hymn The day wraps up in peace.  Trees stand against a sky Blue with faint clouds The wet grass is witness To the soothing summer rain.  The low sun casting Long shadows on the Hill Slow peace descending  The day has had its fill.  The tops of trees resplendent In the evening’s dying rays  Acorns still hanging high For the autumn to arrive.  Little flies a flitting Up the windless path Damp leaves lying In rain’s aftermath.  Stout heart bursting With sudden joy today Senses are enraptured By the forest play. 

Monkstown Clouds The clouds they come and go Across the windows of the Meeting Hall On a Sunday morning sat on benches  In Quaker silence above a polished floor.   Against a sky of China blue  The August clouds dance across The Georgian fan of glass For as long worship lasts.  Until we shake hands and nod To one another and give thanks For the hour spent sitting silent Seeking for the Spirit’s presence.  The sun breaks past the yew trees Lights up window sills and casings Transforms bent heads from grey to silver Whispers grace, peace, surrender.  Small is beautiful and this is small Unpretentious and unknown  Whilst outside a throbbing village  Buys its Sunday papers and ice creams.  Joined in spirit    by our dearest friends  Along, across the Monkstown Road In handsome churches greeting The same clouds as our own. 

  In the time we’ve left In the time we’ve left Let’s celebrate and water flowers  Feed the birds and plant some trees And simply live with some honor.  In whatever days we are granted  Let us sing and dance with abandon Find God in every man and thing Kiss the ground that is supporting You and me and everything.  Let us fall in love with life again Give ourselves another chance  Invite our partner up to dance Teach us to  forget our little selves And embrace the mystery of being No need to find fine words For the silent spirit sees.    Abandon fights that can’t be won Sit in deck chairs, drink in the sun There is no future past the now  Release, relax, refresh somehow.  Freed from our home made jail At liberty to thread the trail That leads to joy and simplicity   To peace and paradise ultimately. 

  The world weeps The world weeps now that man has died Silence follows broken by the waves. Gone the laughter in the houses Vanished now the chat in bars No music straining from the basements Or from throbbing concert halls.  The world sweeps on across space Faithful round the sun That in turn travels far and fast  And brings in sight new unnamed stars In a universe once mute again  That grieves the loss of noisy ones.  The end was always going to come The day was destined to arrive In the way of suns and stars But hastened by the hand of man Who ignored the warnings of the sea Whence he crawled ashore in years before   Some did what they could seeing clearly The party would end much sooner  The harder they drank til dawn For only the drunk can ignore The warning signals and signs That pulse at night and shine.  The universe weeps silently for man For it has lost its only voice God’s plan lies ruined  Til he decides to start again Or will he...