An ghaoth aduaidh bíonn sí crua,

Is cuireann sí gruaim ar dhaoine,

An ghaoth aneas bíonn sí tais,

Is cuireann sí rath ar shíolta,

An ghaoth anoir bíonn sí tirim,

Is cuireann sí sioc istoíche,

An ghaoth aniar bíonn sí fial,

Is cuireann sí iasc i líonta.

The north wind is hard,

And it depresses people,

The south wind is damp,

And...

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An ocean so crystal clear,

Watching the Southern Stingrays glide beneath the Pier.

An Island laden with palm trees,

With coconuts as many as you please.

Take a dive into the deep,

And from the Coral they will peep.

The bluest Blue Tang and the rockiest Rock Beauty,

The melodious French Grunt, a humorous Clown Wrasse and Sergeant Major on duty.

It’s a mystifying ca...

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I wonder now what sin is worse

As we destroy this fragile earth

Who should we condemn the most? Who curse?

The careless or he who cares not for its worth?

When we misfile our plastic waste

Do we sin more than those who double wrap;

When we buy packaged goods in daily haste

Is it our fault we fall into the plastic trap?

And when we recycle those plastic trays

Wh...

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The lake is still in the evening sun

A little breeze make the longer grass sway on the bank

and a ripple disturb the surface:

A mayfly lands

A swallow drinks and is gone before I see

With a rattle, a duck takes off from behind the island

Then it is still again

Beneath the reflections are fish

Sometimes - but not yet tonight -

A circle of ripples flows out from a rise

...

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Those huge white flakes of fish

And the mashed potato dish

Have stayed in my memory

For sixty years

I remember the potato, creamy soft

Had a seasoned, peppery waft

And the choice of sauces:

Egg or parsley

It must have been a whole side of cod

I remember my grandfather like a god

Slowly stood to serve the fish

Separating the flakes

The etched glass...

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Stirred with a little spoon, the teabags swim

Like carp in golden liquid, fin to fin.

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The other night I dreamt a strange dream of a fish that I’ve been thinking about ever since
What follows below are the events.

The fish was long and silver and it lay in my arms swaddled in cloth like a child
(The fish had no name).
And though I was repulsed by it I felt deeply that it needed affection, and
Perhaps I needed the same.

So I held the fish in my arms and though it did not sp...

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from between the leaves

the shafts fall and draw

a hundred golden atria

shining through

the stained organics

of liquid glass

to the cloistral faithful

swimming beneath

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