The clearness of a dream
I had in bed last night
Has dimmed at dawn-
I'm awake and looking west,
...
Goodbyes at the open front door
On a Sunday morning in Summer;
An aeroplane shines in the sun;
At home I can learn about solitude.
...
What’s that?
That sound from the wood!
Does that bare tree complain a lot?
It does not!
...
Scents of the Summer, incense to his senses,
The boy walks barefoot most of the way.
By hills of furze bushes above the soft bog,
Though ever so slowly the river flows free
...
A tall man bends low,
While there is time,
To pick up a lost coin
Lying in the bus lane,
...
Sliabh Aughty, my own mountain mine,
Rhododendroned ridge ever there for me;
Fields ascending higher as I go
From Ballylee to Loughrea's lake:
...
She closes the door as she steps outside
At the end of her day's designing;
Stooping she greets a cat on the street
Whose bushy tail it exceeds him.
...
The morning sky has a crest of a moon
Sitting up over my window's horizon,
Tall conifers compete with chimney stacks,
Castle top turrets and white office blocks;
...
High up over nearby Bantry Bay
Nails are hammered into wood
On the town library roof above us:
Maybe staccato accompaniment
...