Smithereens Press Chapbooks The Sea Path by Ciarán O'Rourke | Page 26

Against the ugliness
your walls contrive,
these things grow still,
till all that’s left
is the window
opposite your seat,
to which
the bleak rain beats,
and the wetting wind.
So think beyond,
to the sounds of home
and the carried sun,
to the high morning
begun again,
the water rustling
and the rain
still green –
to walk out
in summertime, a furl
of swallows lifting,
and the Barr Road bare.
We lean in, close
as breath to you,
and whisper news,

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