Anam Cara

UP THE MOUNTAIN

Was it a choice once,

From within such trembling,

To make a desperate lunge out of here,

Push the fields up into the air,

And make a summit high

Above neighbouring ground offering itself

To host the annual desire of flowers

Emerging like debutantes amidst grass?

Unwilling to linger further under stones,

Endure aimless animal hunger,

And the anger of the trees

Always departing in two directions.

Today the mountain is clear.

It won’t suffer the rain.

The deluge of tears from a sky

Barking in thunder,

But sends the white rivers down

With desperate music

Into the fields of quiet.