Corn Mountain
Curlews crake against white limestone walls
Their echo shrill in the early mist
Wake those who danced the night before
As bog sighs from heat release and black water buzzes
The insects a top scoot in siderwinder display
Heather hangs over and down to the slime in purple and yellow brown
A bicycle grounded on a nettled floor and endless sting
Dance long over and handle bars long relieved
Of scent of a young lady's dress up lifted by seam.
Corn mountain awakes and crows upon the light but corncrake was there first
Mountain clicks and breathes with new sunshine and old scenes the hay the turf
The window curtain a saucer hidden with red meat a treat unseen
Oh why does father not approve
Up, out, blue pooch curtain breaks open and feet to hessian mat
Get up quick the fox was down was in and took the best Rhode Island red
Never to lay never to feed nor mend the mesh but dance dance dance
Kneading and current buttermilk bray and toss and knead away
The heat remains and cooks and pots the bread upon the air
Sweet smell and egg and Rhode Island's best.
Hush boy a sound clean collar for him upon this summer working day
Hangs on Father McHugh's nail it hangs of starch and awaits it's wrap
Before the pipe alights and hears do tell her name do tell
Is the lady of good stock and family fair or cold and just of the night and the air
Forget the bird explain no more as the pipe will choke and bang the floor
Tell me again as Sunday lasts to Mass now and pray for those who passed
Copyright © Ian Foley | Year Posted 2011
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