Missing Ireland

Tuesday, October 9th, 2012

Missing Ireland

A man behind me complains

about the most expensive coffee

in town. I wonder why

he is here at all. His voice

echoes, brisk as waves off

the Ireland coast, but

carrying the local.

I order fish and chips

because I miss Ireland and

nothing here feels like it. I want

to tell the man about Ireland, about

how the cold spreads its fingers to

your bones but unlike the northern Midwest

wind you will find warmth again.

It is the green, I want to tell him, the

green warms you with the sun that

spreads blue then yellow and then you

see, I want to say to him, and then

just as the cold evaporates like

a fog you see the warmth rise

and fall around you in these little notes.


2 comments on “Missing Ireland

  1. Cheryl says:

    Thanks for sharing some of your recent work. I am enjoying reading them more than once. I like the rhythm of the words and find the images they bring to mind very pleasing and soothing.

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