A poem for Wednesday

It must be a seasonal thing. Once the weight of winter starts to lift, I find myself surrounded by yearning for the countryside. Maybe it's the angle of the sun, or the faint whiff of new growth that sets us all off. Thinking about a simpler life, where we spend less and savour more.

This poem is by Irish Kerry poet Michael Kirby. My parents are close to his family and Mum recently send me this, his final publication. His writings are sometimes a little lyrical for my taste. It's something I fight (often unsuccessfully) in my own writing. But every once in a while, I give in it. This is one such time.

When I Am Free
When I am free
I'll seek
The wonderways
Of my childhood
Far from the rapid highways
Of my manhood;

Some country lane
Where I might see
The ripening springburst
Of another summer
Glisten in the hedgerows,
And listen to twittering linnets
Within secluded bowers
Feed love
To little pulsing hearts
And open mouths;

Where I can breathe
Sweet fragrance
From the primrose,
And watch the honeybee
Take time
To kiss each lip
And sip from yellow cups
That mingle
With wild bluebell
In the dell.

Where I can pause
A while
In peace
Until my eventide,
And watch perchance
Sweet mistress of the night
Prepare my bed,
Where I can rest
Until another dawn.
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