". . .IT IS NOW THE TIME...THESE BE THE DAYS. . ."
One day blossomed
into another.
Spring was seen
walking in the wood.
Time lay scattered
all around.
Last Tuesday was
a bunch of flowers
wilting in a vase.
Tomorrow remained
to be plucked
as if he grasped the mystery
of the world
in his tiny fist
that now
( this now )
was the only time
that could be.
Life is simple
when one is
3.
The title comes from James Clarence Mangan's "King Cahal Mór Of The Wine-Red Hand" which phrase would be known to anyone of my generation experiencing an Irish childhood.
I walked entranced
Through a land of Morn:
The sun, with wondrous excess of light,
Shone down and glanced
Over seas of corn
And lustrous gardens aleft and right.
Even in the clime
Of resplendent Spain,
Beams no such sun upon such a land;
But it was the time,
‘T was in the reign,
Of Cahal Mór of the Wine-red Hand.
And the refrain comes back again and again but changing all the time...
"And it is the time,
These be the days,
Of Cahal Mór of the Wine-red Hand.”
“It is now the time
These be the years,
Of Cahal Mór of the Wine-red Hand.”
"That I dreamed this dream
Of the time and reign
Of Cahal Mór of the Wine-red Hand."
But my love of this refrain is far far ahead of me as I am only three and a tree is just another being and the world blooms into my mind.