Stand Off Poem by Matt Mooney
Stand Off
Black Kerry cows are out at last in the hill fields
And we live on the promise of the month of May;
Dark clouds hover over the giant wind turbines,
High and white on the straggling Stacks Mountains
And spotlighted sporadically by a flirtatious sun;
Their blades turn nonchalantly at the wind's will,
Weather weary after this year's wettest scarbheen-
The stand off between the Summer and the Spring.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/26/2024 12:22:42 AM # 1.0.0.1119
