Harvest in, hay saved, golden wheat cut to the scut,
dark scalp of earth streaked through the stubble,
these are the days of swallow filled skies and All Ireland Semi-Finals.
Deep in the woods, butterflies like scraps of silk
taken by an updraft flutter, fragile wings on a tiny gyre,
these are the days to drink deep at the well.
Further on, an old tree fall,
demanding attention from our curious dogs,
the broken stock still putting out leaf
on branches closer to earth than sky,
I stood in the gloaming and thought of my father.
Mick Corrigan’s poems have been nominated for The Pushcart Prize (USA) and The Forward Poetry Prize (UK). His debut collection “Deep Fried Unicorn” was published in 2014 by Rebel Poetry Ireland, his second collection “The Love Poetry of Judas Iscariot” was published by Dionysia Press (UK) in March 2022. He likes to do wild, reckless and irresponsible things with his hair.