, , , , , , , , , , , , ,

This poem was inspired by the farm where my father grew up. I used to go there in summers and disappear into the fields with my cousins or the neighbours until darkness forced us inside. I think we too often take for granted the world around us, and I wanted to write about the complicated and rich world that lives in a small barn in the west of Ireland. Nature is always something that inspires and humbles me.

It will be included in the second anthology ‘Connections‘ from Paragram due for a London launch in March.



Swallows nest,

feathered sentries

eggs their treasure

perched on the gums

of a toothy home

brittle with age.


Spiders spin,

weave a mesh

from strut to strut

silver threads

sticky with secretions

ochre at ends,

lie in wait.


Cows huddle,

udders sway

as they masticate

tongues thick with spit

hay soggy beneath,

pats quiver jelly-like

sharp and sweet.


Mice scurry,

hug crumbly walls

follow the twitch

race back and forth

snatch a morsel

return laden to its

hole, downy with straw.


Days trickle,

a microcosm

guided by seasons

caught in time

rooted in place

but never idle,

never idle.