I always wonder if I'll ever write another poem. Every time one is on the page, I doubt if there'll be more. At the moment I'm waiting for the proof copy of my new collection to come from the printers - the first lot got lost in the post, losing considerable time and a great deal of my work. However, the following is my response to a walk at Ardnadam, where there is a Neolithic settlement, in the gloom of this afternoon. Download MP3 file here
Walking in the early dark
Of afternoon at year’s end
I see your face transfigured by
Unearthly light, a golden glow,
Smiling at a shared recall
Of something that we never knew.
The trees crowd dark and skeletal
As if sprung from that ancient wood
Where huntsman with their dogs had gone,
Their feet soft in the golden road -
And still the bright dusk clothes us round
And time seems thin and whispers grow -
The blood sings: and shall I stay?
But darkness falls and life is now
And home elsewhere and not among
The grey stone walls beneath the trees
Where hearths lie cold and silence grows.
C.M.M. 12/05 ©