A Longing Poem by Richmal Byrne

He longs to go now...

To where sunlight sifts its colouring gold-dust rays
Through leafy limbs that stroke the riverbanks;
To where the wafting wind
Winnows summer’s ripe-corn lights,
Broad-casting along lush, lithe folds,
And the hollows of the hills;
To where skies gently breathe above,
And all afloat
Clouds unfurl their mainsails & their jibs,
To tack along a doggerel day.
To wander towards hope,
That feather in a fool’s cap,
And find a morning rainbow bright,
A brief cool kiss of rain,
All to excite skin, then lend lean shadows again,
Oh! how one curls, unfolds,
Under the polar sun,
Like a cellophane fish,
Flapping on a spread palm,
Or hydraulically smooth,
A giant clam’s lifting shell.

Come now, warm airs, tart vegetable scents,
And the full incense-charing sun after noon,
That expiates the sins
Of replica monsoons.