Here is a podcast of me reading this poem
Through thin clouds,
Through thin clouds,
The star light shines,
Colliding with mountain sides,
Devoid of flesh,
Sliding on scarred scree slopes,
Like broken bones.
Into the heart,
Along vessels carrying blood,
Pumping for millennia,
Eroded by ice and time,
But alive to storms,
And dancing sunbeams,
And tormenting, torrential rain.
A full moon hangs above Stradbally,
A loving, luminous eye.
And the children sleep,
And the children sleep,
In the back seat,
Oblivious to the knife-edged ridge,
Of the eternal now,
And the ancient starlight,
Ending its journey on their wind-blown faces.
Photo from MountainViews
http://mountainviews.ie/mv/index.php?mtnindex=42
This poem was written while on holiday on The Dingle Peninsula on the west coast of Ireland in 2009. We were driving at night 'with the children in the back seat', The silhouette of Stradbally Mountain dominating the skyline ahead. It was a beautifully crystal clear August night.
http://mountainviews.ie/mv/index.php?mtnindex=42
This poem was written while on holiday on The Dingle Peninsula on the west coast of Ireland in 2009. We were driving at night 'with the children in the back seat', The silhouette of Stradbally Mountain dominating the skyline ahead. It was a beautifully crystal clear August night.
