We meet again in winding wind,
And the rolling hush of the leaves.
Briefly, I find sweet peace along the mossy slate and muddy banks,
Knowing sweet ripples from a crystal sheen,
Your quiet babble,
Lapping from the foamy corners of your pebbled mouth,
Rolling along forgotten stones.
Just as I settle by the roots and the moss,
That biting wind returns,
And drags you away,
Writhing and gnashing,
Past a lonesome cobbled bridge;
Away from me.
Abstract
An entry from a collection of short poems written over the summer of 2023. This collection recalls the island of Ireland: the history, the nature, the people, from an outsider’s perspective. Written on location across the varied landscapes of the emerald isle, this collection centers the melancholy of travel, and the resiliance of the Irish people. The titular poem recalls the Lyreen River, which runs through the town of Maynooth.
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