It makes me go "Jesus Christ. Look at the view"
Middle of October, birthday,
Driving past Bantry bay
Treading boots on a carpet of brown
Leaves, the forest walk in Glengariff

I walk and wonder
Why the ivy leaves sprout from the mud  
Scattering green shapes on the ground
Spread across the floor like mushrooms

I see the thin branches hold a preschool painting
A trillion burning instances of colour
And nothing is human here, but you
I am only the moss that clings to the trees

Like a pointilist masterpiece
The apple-green and autumn yellow spots
Gather in canopies above the rocks
While the white streaks and dots
Dance wildly in the black stream

And so
The orangeness, as I turn, flies diagonally,
Looking down across the dampened stones
The colour of fire paints the falling petals
That flip like red feathers

As the stream flows clear as molten glass
And the foam, so dove white on the surface
Bubbles against the edge of it
Splashing boulders,
Rinsing toes