Low light, palely blinding, makes cloud-mirages…
Néal íseal i gcéin,
Tír na nÓg ag ainliú thall.
Néal ar ‘tSeanDomhan.
[One distant, low cloud,
Tír na nÓg hovers offshore.
The Old World sleeps on.]
(28/12/09)
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Clear and crisp still, blindingly, searingly bright days…
Airgid an bhá,
smidiríní scatháin
trí ghéaga loma.
[Silver the bay,
mirror smithereens between
the bare branches]
(21/12/09)
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At last: respite! Cold but blessedly sunny, silvered light throwing indigo shadows over drowned fields.
December field
Twenty-nine curlews
and twenty-nine long shadows
patrol a bright field.
(14/12/09)
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Phew! It’s been, as we say up in Louth, very weathery! Floods, storms, cold, rain and wind – and very occasionally and most welcome, a sunny spell.
Breather
After-storm quiet,
a million new streams singing
in full-throated song.
(07/12/09)