August 2015

The road verges are at their absolute best just now…

Ferns and meadowsweet
caress the flanks of the cars.
Lanes, summer-narrowed.



Mid-summer meteorite-lit nights. Do the badgers notice?

The lawn full of holes,
badgers root for midnight grub.
Above, stars explode.



Whew, wild days, storms and rain, pity the flowers…

Battered mont bretia,
rain-walloped, storm-hammered, bashed.
Flowers strain upwards.



Thíos cois farraige: dathanna…

Roilleóg ar charraig;
Dubh ‘is oráiste ‘is bán:
feamainn, téad ‘is cúr.