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At Lough Allua, along the waterfront
One observes a turning of the tide
From river stones, which stay blunt
Are nature’s creatures, who needn’t hide

A little toad searches for anew
Commencing a journey made by few
Its passage, grows so weary
Following the gravel track
On its way to Ballingeary

High ditches cloak edges of the roads
Serving to both sides, a useful shield
Tender branches break against the cars
And one peers through leaves, into a field
To spot vibrant hydrangeas, unconcealed

Yet across the rugged boundary
One can hear the mud clumps crack
With a sand-tinted Hereford bull
Rolling around on his back

Retiring into a pond
Atop the Shehy Mountains
The land in Spring, it is so fond
When in the creases of these hills
The emerging sun shines through the petals
Of those lovely daffodils

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