GLENCOLUMBCILLE

Waves resound at the edge

            of sky and ocean’s

                        great expanse

braced for the dark gather of clouds

            pressing from south

                        of where he stands,

 as if at watch, on the treeless bog

           

            The person

                        who is his own ancestor

imagines voyaging

            from the known to the unknown

                        through a storm shroud,

            muscling hope out of promise

                        Rain puddles splatter

his loss of sight, sounds coming forward 

            like revelers

up narrow streets, past the house

                        close to the road

             Strange visages

that make momentary shapes

                         familiar

the way a mirrored gaze

at a wash basin

            will sometimes stare past

                       the cliff's premonition

He could leave

                        the sheep

            grazed hillside,

the white sand beach,

            and the sweet burning peat

            walk back
through the tiny village

                          past the general store

until patches of blue 

                        push open the sky 

            and a rainbow arches up

                        lightening the rain

A person finds himself

            in both departure

                        and return

where the sea is a fallen down ladder