Bernard Kennedy (20 May 1956 / dublin)

Over Screen the soft pink duvet comes,
accross the sky, the dog goes home
to his basket.
The Robin into hedge has gone
the hare his evening stroll is done,
the Benbulbin hides the setting sun.

My life is full of cups of tea gone cold,
a needy call the door it knocks,
the traveller lost for half a crown,
the worried soul sings out regret
and couple want to wed.

But in this saucer, underneath the Sligo sky,
hope is never done, and stoke the fire
of faith, for in the hollow bark
the moss will grow and
lichen soften the hardened bark.