Friday, April 24, 2015

In Mayo


 
The sky:
 

            rags on bushes

            in a wintry gale.
 

The barbed-wire fence:
 

            a lunatic's music

            sprinting down the valley.
 

The mountains:
 

           tossed heads

           with their silvering sheen.
 

Telephone wire:
 

            daisy-chained voices

            humming out of tune.
 

The lake:
 

            a shirt that blew

            off a line.
 

Rowan tree:
 

            tongue on the mountain

            shaping high C.

 

 

 

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