Skinny, bony, bare
branches, twigs, stretched in pale death
amid vibrant green.

Skinny, bony, bare
branches, twigs, stretched in pale death
amid vibrant green.
A dream in scarlet
twilight gently falls, and blooms
glow with inner light.
I was here before
you came, and when you are gone
I will still be here.
Peat brown water, calm
and quiet between the trees
in their summer green.
Black against the gold
scribbles dark on light, tracings
on a Winter sky.
Brittle spikes of grass
frost patterns leaves and stony
earth, dead Winter’s grip.
Every branch aloft
reaching for the blue above
draws in pallid heat
Báisteach, boladh móin
(Rain, the smell of turf)
i bhfad ó Rann na Feirste
(when I’m far from Rannafast)
cumha ar mo chroí.
(sorrow in my heart.)
Be still; half-close your
eyes, and listen to the sound
of the universe.
Black against the gold
tracings on a Winter sky
December sunset.