A new chapter

  August is retiring   August is retiring for another year Leaves on lawns mark her departure September hovers in the wings Demurely waiting for her introduction.  Children’s cries float over garden fences Schools have returned this week again Shiny, hopeful faces in tidy uniforms  Time does not stand still for any child.  This pleasant time of in between When sun and showers alternate As in a play with equal billing Time holds her breath just for a moment.  Trees mostly clothed bow and sway In breezes that come up from Dublin Bay With tales of travels of the sea Above the spires of old Dun Leary.  This is a tale that’s told this time of year But all the better for its repetition Sailing into autumn in brown and yellow Snuggling into a season warm and mellow. 

  He’s lost He’s lost his scaffold His innards falling out He’s lost his early faith Now he’s plagued with doubt.  He’s falling down a well He cannot find his feet Or tell when this fall Will ever end at all.   He’s lost his ancient way He’s given up the hope Of ever coming home  To the empty house.  He needs a friendly hand He seeks a solid shoulder To save him from himself  To bring him hope and home.  When least he thinks it likely He meets another soul  On the way one morning Looking for a meaning.  Now they meet for coffee  A bagel or a scone On Monday at eleven It’s the simple things, you know. 

  Walking down Walking down a sunny lane On a quiet August evening When the air is filled with insect song And pigeons calling from afar.  The gentle autumn sun Dips beneath the vesper clouds Nature is at peace for busy man Has abandoned yellow fields today.  The dog follows panting on the path That leads down to sea Beyond the church and cemetery That bear the name of Trinity.  Time has stopped and history too This magic moment when we pause To drink in Grace and sunlight A special time of blessing.  A busy bee makes its way From wild flower to another Nature in a riot as brambles Compete for space and light All of a sudden a young child’s voice Travels from a homestead A sun-burnt field away That speaks of joy and innocence.   We shall play our tiny part To make this planet better So that in time the earth is healed For our children’s children. 

  The evening The evening’s drawing in As Autumn nears and leaves Fall from exhausted trees Weak from summer heat. Nature will take refuge  In the care of late August When fine rain washes Red ripening apples The birds in Wexford make plans To venture south in search of heat They gather on the beaches Weighing up the hour to leave.  Then of a sudden they rise and wheel Into the leaden sky Leaving us bereft To long nights ahead Darkness covers land Trees bend in stiff breezes Lonely lights in houses twinkle Through the cascading gloom. The seasons make their way Like sentries round our lives Something old and new Appear then slide from view. Like fruit flies on an apple We scramble on this planet blue Oblivious to where we are And to whence we wander. Miracle of the ordinary Sensational in the simple Messy and sublime Fate and chance combine.

  Beside the reeds   Beside the reeds, beside the sea In a clearing where sounds of waves Come gently from the beach  Where full tide spills and crashes.  Beside a boat that’s blue and white Its wooden prow looking out at Tuskar That stands above a cruel rock Along a sea of sad shipwrecks Sunday evening and the sun Has lost its battle in the west Retiring in a golden haze Overseen some summer days  The cool wind rinsing reeds Blows freshly on my shoulder Staring out to sea Contemplating    infinity.  Wishing we could hold on And stop this season ending Grasping seconds between our fingers Falling gently on the sand.

  Little bits Little bits of life fall off And then get left behind Only memories mark  What was once, now gone.  Parents first and then our cousins Siblings follow and school friends Our suits now kept for funerals Our futures now behind.  We’ve crossed the brow We’ve reached the top The only way is downward To a cottage in the valley.  The path of life circles back If we’re very lucky We find ourselves  Where first we came from.  Life’s gravity pulls us round Our roots determine our direction  Blessed to be witnesses To the olden songs and stories.  Life has spared us for this day Of marvel and of blessing The gentle wind along the lane Bookends another summer.  Have we sung a tune Or drawn a picture Lit a candle  Made things a little better? To have passed this way And left a rounded stone A marker for another soul A signpost that will stay. 

  Wake me up Wake me up November sixth Tell me that the nightmare’s over Whisper to me that our dreams are free That his name will never cross our lips again.  Surely there will be blue skies  Over Washington, Beirut and Kyiv A bad morning follows a poor night For Moscow and for Budapest.  Flags will fly high in Biden’s Irish home In Jamaica , Delhi and Nevada The silent horde have found their voice The MAGA rabble have retreated to their burrows.  Dare we breath again, free from terror Dare we hope    to strive for better? Has democracy survived despite the money Of the far right wealthy autocrats? Can we work to heal the earth To rebuild the middle class? And strive for simpler lives Which will deliver better? A further future for our children A brighter future for their children Should we dare to hope again? Then I’m certain our nightmare’s over.