The Ghent Review Volume1, Number 1, summer 2016 | Page 11

rounded by all weathers
is my ancient of days
the roaming clouds
as if by his command
split this afternoon's westering light
into a pair of golden compasses
they describe a circle round our sky
our townlands and our homeplaces

the field
last summer the field
boxed in by clipped hedges
was carefully tended
from a distance
it looked manicured
you'd take it for the lawn
of some great estate
a flock of gleaming sheep
shorn and equally attended
had grazed it clean
this year they planted
a for sale sign in the field
it has remained ungrazed
time for silage making
has long since passed
and the long grass
its nervy filaments
bend rhythmically
to the slights of wind
auguries of the seasons
here and there pioneers
trees and meadow seedlings
have already taken root
nature's mood for motley
mocking the old regime