Galway's tears are grey
soft they fall upon her cheeks
scarred and rutted with her age
weathered by storms
kissed by the sea
a faithful and remembered love
he visits often
and tries to bend her to his will
but she is strong
resoulute she will not change
only time can rearrange her features
often she is mild
her temper only stirred by the restless wind
who is her neighbour
always rapping on the doors
of her crouched and hunkered homes
yes, Galway’s tears are grey
but her grassy smile is warm and wide
she gets into the bones of you
until you know that can never really leave her loving arms
and if you do, know a little of her will be coming too

Lonely donkey
standing in a field
munching words
not quite fitting in with the herd
all the other beasts are brown
he is green, with stripes and one ear
braying out poems
that noone else can hear
he isn’t unhappy
as he chews in the sun
but it’s hard to be
the only one

Sparse
bronze brown heather
wet and tangled from the rain
beaten smooth
as is the rough ill tempered land
no gentle hand has brushed these clouds
of wind-whipped winter sky
reflected fish skin waves skim white
shallows in blue,
mourning deep among the painted grey
a solemn yet a not unpeaceful day
of drinking moorland streams
which river run
to feed the misty sheep strewn hills
all dappled winter appled green
and on and down through ancient peat
so black and rich and free
to the breeze bent grass at waters edge
which sings of you Lough Fee

I feel its living breath
close now
scented soft upon my shoulder
shivers the breeze
every lamb,
every flower,
every blossoming tree
I do not walk through spring
it walks through me

My old cat in spring
twitches his ear at passing bees
and sniffs at the lavender scented breeze
then he warms his belly and starts to purr
with a little less winter stuck to his fur

you took the swan road
your kimono hangs quiet
both of us empty

It was windy today
I did not walk alone on the beach
or hear its many creaks and groans
the watery moans of margin land
where sea becomes sand, and tide becomes sky
I sat in the car to keep myself dry
and watch the squawking seabirds fly
battling the wind for scraps
thrown and trapped in a playful breeze
which dropped and then continued to tease
litter turned to crisp packet sails
that danced and skipped in the stinging air
with a grace and freedom I could not share
all the same I’m glad I was there