The walls of the well are well up now,
And the walls at the back are quite well on
As well as the walls for the flowers at the front
At Listooder.

I sit in the temporary garden chair, and feel quiet dropping from the escalonia,
Each flower complete with a fat, round, thick-striped bee replete with honey,
And the sweet smelling honeysuckle behind me drips clean drops of rain from the recent downpour.
I am watching white sheep on the low green hills, round hills with fat round balls of wool stuck on against the felty grass.
The soft, beige-coloured collared dove lands awkwardly in the nest in the elder tree.
“Awk, awk, awk, flap, flap.
Look out, below, I’m coming in to land!”
Then, “Coo,” as he settles in his own place.

We looked for our place for a long time, for years; and now find it here in the heart,
The geographical centre, of County Down,
(Right in the middle of the map.)

I watch my husband building stone on stone, working hard.
He is building up the boundary walls.

The walls of the well are well up now,
And the walls at the back are quite well on
As well as the walls for the flowers at the front
At Listooder.
 


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05/01/2012 23:54

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