That Time Of Year Poem by Michael Pruchnicki

when trees unleave
decent folk come to Macumera,
far from the raging storms and dark clouds-

they long to dance naked on the village green
and sing in the light of the moon!

Postmen in cobalt blue tunics sporting
kelly-green St. Patrick's walking sticks
trudge the cobblestone lanes
bearing news from the Nuns at Roscommon-

'A small gallows with a red rose
was sent to one and all from Our Lady's
Asylum at Roscommon. Have you received it? '