Emerald Isle

The snort of the burro

disturbed by fleas

in the early dawn light


Fragrant smells of peat fires.

Hedgerows heavy with

May splendour.


To tramp alone through

deserted fells,

catch sight of Croix Patrick


looming through the mist,

scaled by hordes of sinners

praying for redemption.


Many varied greens evoke

primeval longings

to be near my forefathers


in my beautiful

Emerald Isle.

Maggie Cusick


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