Muckish Mountain, from the ‘Song House’ in Falcarragh, Donegal
A week after the explosion in the nearby village of Creeslough claimed 10 lives
Falcarragh Breakfast
Pine whorls, willow scrub
Midline spotted with sharp green grass
Oily puddles in pitted hollows
Of lumpy tarmac
~
Tentatively trotting down hill
Heart responding
Muckish stark against the violet sky
Errigal swathed in wisps
~
Overnight oats and warm green apples
From lichen coated branches
Beyond thick warm glass
Where the crumpled bracken turns
~
Snatched snippets of chat
‘Light’, ‘In the West’
‘Not to be perfect’, ‘Others’
‘Doing it’, ‘Now’
~
Four square cushions piled
On yellow planks. Tilt my hips
Pelvis spreading, reaching
For the granite crust
~
Hand knitted brown tweed
From Ardara
And a candle
For Creeslough
~~~