Morning In Roscommon Poem by Brett Carter

I looked outside the window of a little stone house
On a rainy morn in Roscommon
Water ran down the panes
Reminding me of my pains
Hospitality here was uncommon

The dirt road ran off over a ridge and muddy
She spoke English but of a different kind
Offering me coffee I think, her face a ruddy
Complexion, I was lucky to find
Her oasis the night before

Mutual fascination with each other's culture
And her stuffing some more edibles in my bag
I step outside, away from the warm fireplace
Feeling the Irish open space
Today I will let the rain drops play tag

I threw on my jacket, and we exchanged some coins
She gave me a motherly hug
Then my feet and the long road joined
And the rest of my tired body drug
Along a wet muddy, sparsely grass covered road

But it was the rain of my ancestors here
Which filled me with strength
And took away my fear
So I could continue walking the length
Of Ireland.