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Seán Mac Falls Mar 2015
I draw the hot bath
For you my sweet goose bumped girl
Your smile draws me in
Seán Mac Falls Mar 2015
Sun-shower dressed tree,
Rain left bright silver jewels,
  .  .  .  Beads on evergreen.
Seán Mac Falls Mar 2015
She walks in beauty  .  .  .
Shines without delusion,
  .  .  .  Certain as starlight.
Seán Mac Falls Mar 2015
.
The mountain lily crowding,
Grassy glens in formal dress,
After snows and early spring—
Rain over all the green hillsides,
An earthly heaven of constellation,
Daybreaks into marvelous milkyway.
Seán Mac Falls Feb 2015
Feathers fluttering  .  .  .
Shine from heavens after rain,
  .  .  .  Shy dove in birdbath.
Seán Mac Falls Feb 2015
.
Blooms of hair, shimmers and starlight,
Face of dream, gathers in lighted loom,
Wakes of morn, spotty forest fawn, child
To magi moon, maid of golden orchards,
Of faraway seas, world opened vastness,
Temptress of foreign fruits and the giving
Sun, where blue, blood oranges old, ripen,
The dark vines grape of ancient olive, red
Lamb and wine.

What enchanted lands are you made of?
Where the diving seas of dolphin, sponge
And whirlpool weave, wherein Gods must
Have loved and making you, left this earth
In beauty and peace, burnished with dream.
Fand (pronounced: fawnd) is an early Irish sea goddess.  Her name is translated as "Pearl of Beauty".  She is seen as the most beautiful of goddesses.
Seán Mac Falls Feb 2015
She strides with sun,
Trussed like a flower,                                                          ­                                  
Into noon.
Seán Mac Falls Feb 2015
.
Dressing the day,
Beaming purely, on bankers
Hours, spinning such fine, spine
Wheel ways, painting the stones
Of grey, never so faraway, showing
Mighty, mirth in maddest Midgard,
Bearing blooms dizzily, trailing
All the new, children who play,
Pick and count, humming with faces
Bright as the late bedding stars
Joyous in the offered cheers
Of the crowning sun, gifts
All, in endless amount.
Seán Mac Falls Feb 2015
Stars fell into day—
Burning in redden silence,
  .  .  .  Leaves float on still lake.
Seán Mac Falls Jan 2015
In the early dawn
A shout is seen
As the moon is falling,
Tawny birds blithely dart
In the scarlet tangles
Of your heart, always escape
Yet never so parading past
The topped prime colours
Of bleeding eyes uncovered,
All the fields and clearing
Woods have cordoned
Themselves, beyond
Your glorious boundaries,
In the knotted, noble trials
Of briar and serrated leaf,
Green trails ply angled thorns
Leading to one ****** crown.
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