Ireland

...and thereabouts….10/18

“….each person stares out of a story full of suspense 

and surrounded by mystery.”

                                                —William Stafford

On the plane, I watch others’ movies 

so the sound doesn’t interfere

with the story.

**

Dublin, down the street from Trinity College, 

fashionable young girls and leaves 

readying for fall.

**

Leaves fall, flash 

colored predictions 

of what’s next.

**

Gulls wing above the street,

call into morning darkness

as loud as young men 

crowding the corner

crow.

**

The winds on the Galway coast

can make your steps so light

you might well tip.

**

Galway

Ocean often makes its strongest case

in the dark hours, shares long-held dreams

at the furthest reach of its spray.

You have to be there.

**

Where my feet demur, I listen.

Just below whisper, deeper currents

encourage, but do not instruct.

**

First light comes a shadow-glow, low in the east, 

stars gone, ocean air dry, warm, lingering, 

lingering as if needful of nothing  

but listening.

**

The older woman

with eyes alive, smiles quick, leans with her step, 

takes notes and listens before she speaks—there’s more,

but I’d rather hear her say it, set conclusions aside,

just ride the light she rides.

**

Found a flower in the flora magazine I’ve carried along

that I’d found in the mountains earlier in the season. 

My photo is better, but not nearly as good as

the memory of the find.

**

Killarney to Kilkenny

From the southern coastal mountains, inland,

pastured hillsides reappear through the mists.

County Kerry into County Cork, thinly veiled

remembrance of resistance clears the surface

of the guide’s voice.

**

Kilkenny to Dublin, further north, leaves turned 

even more. Morning clouds appear 

at the mouths of cows.

**

Stars this morning 

between the crowns of surrounding trees,

constellations signaling in English.

**

The streets of Belfast taste of the work of living.

Not one we’ve met is not friendly, everyone inquiries

with a smile, and on the sidewalk side of the bedroom

window, children’s voices make it morning.

**

West Belfast

Once born here, family history, as if chosen,

becomes the ballast of life trajectory.

Even the peace wall has two sides. 

Things are better, but gates open in daylight

still are closed at night.

**

The last night, watching through the window

a street lamp throw glitter to ripples 

on the River Liffey, thinking 

who needs the moon?

**

The goal: 

the lightest possible touch.

How simple?

Unidentifiably so.

We leave Dublin

over wide stretches

of sectioned greens,

through scattered puffs of cloud

casting good-by shadows below.