Summer Solstice Poem by James McLain

When by all I am gathered of you.
Donegal,
Blind rub off you leave me the tree climbs the ruins.
White streaked with blue was the red stained ice.
Standing far off into the close grey goose light is mist
Intricate carvings is the brown long staff.
Reading to the stones being thus was permitted,
by the English my lone inheritance.
Gone are the Romans opportunity once each year.
Curators of the enormous monuments erect.
Now are the tourist whom come to gather.
Looking at the stones which Druidess used, it is large.