And then

 And then...

Just a few hours ago Lorraine received her first Astra Zeneca jab without any delay or fuss. It seems the HSE appreciates 66 year olds above 69 year olds. But it was ever thus. 

Within two weeks we should be able tentatively to reengage with our granddaughter and thereafter society generally, cautiously and for present outdoors. Meeting in pubs and traveling on planes will return but they seem a far off chimera right now. We have all come a long way. And we have survived. And learned a few useful things. 

So it’s the correct time to hang up the writer’s boots the and lay down the pen -  for present at least and turn to activities appropriate to the summer. Thank you for your company. 

Two shorten the road, in Gaelic....

Gioraíonn beirt bóthar

26/4/21

Glenageary. 

Words

 Words 

Words have been my faithful friends

As long as I remember 

But recently we’re making strange

Writing takes a little longer. 

Some words look plain weird 

As if they’re spelled the wrong way round

Thank heavens for the spell check

Google is a constant savior. 

The crowded party now’s grown thin

No longer easy to trap the words

That once were friends and neighbors 

Now we simply nod and grin. 

But no regrets I’ve loved them all

Used some well, and others badly

I hope they have nice things to say

As I make my writer’s journey.  

Same days

 All days the same 

Quakers have this noble notion

God created all days the same  

Important then to worship him

On a Monday as on Sunday. 

Birthdays too should matter little

No need to make a Christmas fuss

Days and months are known by numbers

Meeting houses have no steeple. 

Men and women created equal

No paid preachers no clerics either

The voice of each one weighs the same

Save the earth to bless his name. 

No loud choirs with rousing hymns 

No long sermons predicting hell

Just a circle sitting silently

Waiting on the Spirit’s song

Which is wordless because in truth

Words bring more trouble than they’re worth 

No need to promise, just accomplish 

Actions always speak the loudest. 

Aviva

 Aviva reunion. 

Queueing for hours in rugby’s Aviva

Surrounded by folk born in fifty one

Some looking younger and some a bit older

Than sixty nine years with the passage of time. 

We the high babies of fifty five

Seem back in our desks where it all begun

Sixty six years have come and gone 

Since the first day of school came along. 

I got a jab with a lad

Born the same year as me

I got a jab with a hon

Born in fifty one. 

We three had somehow survived

With our scars as a badge of honor 

We three had attended school

On early Saturday mornings. 

Behind our masks hid the lines

That announced approaching seventy

The fabric of our life and travels 

Etched in our eyes and mannerisms

We dressed for comfort not to impress

Either girl or boy or anybody 

We’d made our statements long ago

Silence now a remedy. 

We are the Oxford Astra babies 

But survive it we surely will

We the children of the fifties

Are just too bloody minded. 

We’ll meet again 

In three months time

To get the second jab and

The key to future freedom. 

A happy second meeting 

Then off we sail in a breeze

Once again into the deep seas

Of time and happier history. 

Knowing full well that when

We meet some years in the future

Beyond the pearly gates long queues

No longer will await us. 

Tonight

 Tonight

Should I die tonight happy I’ll be

Knowing I’ve reached nearly seventy

Enjoyed the care of family

Years of fun and laughter

Enough success and the odd disaster

I’ve had more than my share 

Of the earth’s sweet fruits 

Of bright spring dawns

And russet autumn sunsets. 

I’ve seen the world 

And walked the beaches

Enjoyed the best of food 

The world can serve us. 

Should I die tonight sad I’ll be

For I haven’t said goodbye 

To all the folk and family

There’s another dawn for me

Rise above the Irish Sea 

I’ve still got plans you see

I’ve a bucket list to complete 

With castles in deep valleys

And friends to greet again

When this long plague is over 

With bright music to enjoy

With friendships to rekindle 

Family to embrace

Over early morning coffee

And lazy evening dinners. 

When the time is right I hope

To shuffle off the stage

I hope I’ll know the hour

When my script is over. 

Because death gives me no fear

Just the fear of missing

Something with my name on it

The Lord sent  me in person. 

So drift into the West I will

But so far no voice is calling

So I think I’ll soundly sleep

Waking up tomorrow morning

Simon

 Simon 

Not so simple Simon cleaning windows

With a smile both rueful and disarming 

Up the ladder with his bucket

Always time to discuss a novel. 

Happy to chat and discuss bestsellers  

Better read than any writer 

Familiar with classics, old and new

Better informed than me or you. 

Progress marked the march of years

His trusty bike gave way to better wheels 

That cheeky schoolboy grin

A better man than I Gunga Din. 

Covid came and we lost contact

Often thinking fondly through the panes 

Of the cleaner who cheered us up

Discussing Shakespeare and Fontaine. 

Today we learned of his fast demise

A blood clot sadly did the damage 

And robbed us of our learned cleaner

His broad wide smile up his metal ladder. 

Tradesmen come and gardeners go

But Simon touched our hearts and so

Each time we look out the window

We’ll remember him in sun and snow. 

Te deum

 Friday

It’s a Friday in April

The tide is a turning

Hope is a rising

No more despairing.  

Now gone are the doubts

We don’t even miss them

Confidence grows 

In everyone’s breast. 

The naysayers silenced

The pessimists banished

Before us extends

The bright promised land. 

People out walking

Their strides are more open

Their shoulders thrown back 

Embracing the sun. 

The last year a nightmare 

There is no denying 

Now looking forward we strive 

Very soon to arrive

At a land of white milk

And glorious honey

Promised by vaccines

Better than money. 

First Astra Zeneca jab 21/4/21