Tuesday, April 8, 2008

Poem by Martin Swords

sharp night in Glendalough

night air in Glendalough is sharp,
sharp frost is on the ground

the frozen puddles hold
the Dog Star shining down

the Green Road sparkles icy
cold stillyness the sound

from Derrybawn as streamlets
stand in icicles hung down

on Paddock Hill the ring of stones
four thousand years stood round

hoarfrost stubbles granite face
facing Camaderry’s mound

firm footprints of the furtive
deer trail shadows on the ground

breath clouds in the still night air
as each hilly step is bound

in homes of long gone foresters
windows flicker winter warmth

valley folk in their cosy cots
sit ruddy faced at fiery hearths

in this the place they love,
this mountain Glen
this magic mystic Glendalough
alive in the sharp night air

Martin Swords
Prompt Poems
Feb 2008

copyright Martin Swords 2008

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