THE ROAD TO BALLYVAUGHAN
Excerpt from Delmarva Review Volume 10.
The ferry shudders and scrapes against the stone quay
And we are moving, churning crosscurrent on the river
Nearly estuary, the gulls a billowy
Chaff of white above the whitecapped backwash, lovers
Young and old with their hair all windblown at the rails,
Histories little and long entwining their hands.
The ferry docks, we leave the river for the hills
High miles of stony outcrop till the road descends.
Wildflowers we came for can wait until tomorrow.
This evening let’s idle on the meadow grass, framed
On one side by limestone, by sea on the other side.
When the wine is gone, before we stir ourselves to go,
Let me raise between us a single fluted long-stemmed
Wineglass, empty of all but sunlight, poured out on the tide.