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