Ireland I Have Seen

[super sonnet] My folks are from Magilligan, it's said— a stretch of windy green beside the sea, where, from the rocky bluffs, a quilt is spread of emerald grass, where trolls and faeries be. I almost smell the bracing, salty air and feel the breath of ocean on my face. I hear the call of sea birds flying there, as if to beckon me to find this place. My ancestors would listen for the sound of fiddling tunes that carried on a breeze. A Celtic reel would have them spinning 'round and toasting Irish beer to take their ease. And yet I know they worked an endless day with callused, hearty hands in dauntless toil. They had the Irish grit to make their way, and sturdy backs to turn the hardened soil. While I may never see this Isle of green— adrift in daydreams, Ireland I have seen.