for Kathleen Loughnane

by Moya Cannon.

Over the drystone, sunstruck wall
we were ambushed by the sway
and scent of a July meadow—
whites of tall daisy and yarrow,
purples of scabious and cranesbill,
the bitten yellow of cat’s ear,
blue tremble of harebell,
and more flowers that we couldn’t name,

but we were caught, are caught still,
in the blurry, summery sway of it.

Moya Cannon’s Collected Poems were published by Carcanet in 2021. moyacannon.ie

BIA TIARGÁLAÍ (Scott san Antartach)

le Gréagóir Ó Dúill.

Fán am a dtagaim ar an fhírinne sa channa stáin
Bíonn an lipéad stríoctha stróctha.
Bíonn an fhírinne searbh,  an fíorscéal cam.
Aithním na lanna faobhair le cois na gcrúb beannaithe oscailte,
Na cineálach uirlise a fhuasclaíonn an fheoil;  seachnaím mo pholladh féin
Agus leagaim an fheoil gona súlach ar phláta fuar
Ag súil nár lobhadh é.