Margaret O Driscoll

Fragrance drifts from the Guelder Rose
Lacey blossoms of Summer cream
I sit under it's leafy shade
Drifting into a daydream
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Awed by its architecture
I step inside
Gigantic Gothic arches
Rise on either side
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I took a trip down memory lane
along the byways last September
Pointing out familiar places
and events I well remember
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It felt strange going back there
I'd almost forgotten the way
Suddenly it came back to me
At the turn off down to the bay
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Velvet reed mace by the lakeside
Swans glide on the mirror serene
Buttercups gold among grasses
In heat haze a calming scene
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The miscellany of the murmuration
Can be heard by all around
Starlings swoop down, strutting swiftly
Yellow beaks probing in the ground
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Fenceless fields of young wheat
Soaked by swivelling irrigation
Roadside lines of cherry trees
On my way to the train station
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A bird hide fashioned in willow
With a high wooden bench to sit on
A long discreet viewing slit
A moorhen appears, then it's gone
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'Clouds like wooly sheep' he said
'means it will stay clear'
His weather eye still accurate
as it has been year after year
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A hot Summer's day
market stalls everywhere
Smoke rises from the barbeque
customers queue in the square
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Bull frogs loudly croaking croaking
Amid pond lilies in the midday sun
A black swan displayed his annoyance
head held high strutting at everyone
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I stepped out on the balcony
On my first morning in Ukraine
Newly unfurled birch trees
Glistened in the rain
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Hemmed in all Winter behind four walls
On the first fine day the beach calls
By a deep channel flowing into the sea
I follow the tide mark, checking debris
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The Children Of Lir slumber
By Ballydonegan Bay
A swan's feather floats over Caha's hills
Guides walkers on The Beara Way
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I wish for them a curious mind
answers to questions they pose
I wish for them a love of nature
interest in all that grows
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Come lie with me on warm grass awhile
Inhale the sweet clover, the scent of pure soil
Walk hand in hand beneath hawthorn trees
White petals floating by in a warm gentle breeze
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Their work dictated by the tides
Some days they picked at first light
Baskets strapped to their shoulders
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He checks his neighbour's bee hives
He's the only one still living there
His neighbours have fled the war
The town in ruins, shops all bare
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Mid March, sun shines brightly
Rooks are nesting on high trees
Hazel catkins sway like lambs tails
Scent of hyacinth in the breeze
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The old national school,
yard overgrown,
roof slates missing,
door jambed open,
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