Winter In The Valley Poem by Liam ó Comáin

A strong wind blows from the north
Through the gap of snow- capped hills,
While beyond the fields flows the Roe
With pieces of ice like broken drills.

Some travelling folk are in the wood
With a Connemara seeking to be fed,
As milking cows low from the byre
And wild rose blooms, alas, are dead.

Beyond the barn alongside the hen house,
A group of ewes in a huddle lie,
Far removed from their summer quarters
Below an owl in a turbulent sky.

Upon a leafless bough a little redbreast
Utters a call to the coming spring,
In need of food, in need of shelter,
Perhaps a thaw tomorrow will bring…

My wife sits knitting before the fire
There listening to the north wind’s call,
While the babes asleep in the upper room
As I stand watching snow- flakes fall.