Kreisteiz

NOON

 

The last ringing of the church bell grows silent

Lost in the dreamy blue haze

There is no other sound in this warm Hour

Except the timid song of a cricket deep in its crevice

Accompanied by the popping of shafts of gorse

And the mournful laments of a shy robin

In the sloe's black thorns above the narrow cartpath.

 

Summer 1967.