Ron Carey Poetry
DRIVING RAIN THROUGH MAYO
It was one of those days when God forgot
He had created light. We followed the graphite road
Pencilling its determined way across Mayo.
The mist rolled back in its faintness
And the car shot through, as if
We knew exactly where we were going
And we might be able to return.
Townlands and parishes changed
Their names as we drove, defying childhood Irish.
In thorn-bush and furze, birds cowled under
The unmanageable tonnage. Feathered in a sheen
Of permanent rain, tongueless crows watched us,
Eyes diamante. Big boiled sheep, waterlogged
In shagged wool, appeared and disappeared
Under the pulsing clouds, as we drove on,
Beyond the innocence of living.
And then, from outer space, the sun sent its beams
Searching the byways and hedgerows for wonder
And found it in us.
In the simple brilliance of realisation, our souls uncoupled
Their safety-belts and floated free.