Tuesday, April 17, 2012

On Entering The Big House
The drumlins of County Monaghan lie cool
in acreage earth. Moist air meets the wind, as it
mutters along. Its tall façade, far above eye-level,
pinks in certain light, smooths a grey slate roof.

This is how it looks beyond its flashing. Conical
spires and gables filled with rich attention. The
side door is an entrance to staff, couriers on their
rounds, rummaging in the backs of vans.

Perhaps, large shoulders of a Nobel winner have
already moved in. Stooped to touch the floor for a
green scarf. The poet’s coat simply falling off, one arm
first, the tweed shouldered from the right.

You imagine a quiet Gaelic tune inside, keys
tinkling in the piano room - a practice for sound. 
The office ladies welcoming in the hall, saying,  
Come in. Come in! Tis good you’re here.

Ah! there at the top of the stairs, linen and towels,
and with every good sense an oak desk, mirrors
to double your view, a chaise lounge, brass bed
tall and plumped for a three-week comfort.

While you, by day, settling on a selection of books
for an evening read, will walk in the afternoon
beside the lake, beside hedgerows, the way forward
with a greying, energetic kelpie-cross racing ahead.



Published by Australian Poetry Centre, Melbourne

of Arc & Shadow

of Arc & Shadow
Published by Sunline Press, WA

The Joyous Lake

Par écrit

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