On And On Poem by Matt Mooney

On track emerging from the station,
the Dublin train confronts the dark;
the early one from Kerry hesitating
before careering headlong onwards
across the county bounds with Cork.

Soon the morning flush full of hope
reveals the long low sensuous hills,
all their dips and curves silhouetted,
black against the early morning blue.

Millstreet lights like magic lanterns,
dimmed as the sun is regally arising.
Windows west turn into goldmines.

The rattle of a tea trolley is reviving
to all those of us who nod and sleep.

In an accent you could put to music
by its rise and fall - for the next stop,
a male voice calls loudly 'Baanteer! '.