Irish Summer
My plight is tied to the incessant rain,
Weighed down by post-modernity.
Or whatever it is – hypermodernity?
The Digital Flood.
I was forged in the 1990s you see,
Weaned on radio alarm clocks and junk food.
It’s all about timing.
I watched on powerless
As three courgette plants
Were nibbled out of existence
In early May.
But planted towards month’s end
Three more will endure,
Along with another two under cover –
The yellow ones.
A glut awaits but no apples this year
On the big tree I failed to prune
After the golden apples of yesteryear.
Meanwhile the roof sprang a leak.
The 1990s roof.
Weighed down by solar panels.
We agreed that a summer like this
Is worse than winter
Because it’s there in front of you
All evening long.
An overpowering green
Beneath an unmemorable sky.
The train moves on slowly
From Edgeworthstown
After allowing another to pass
Along the single track north-west.
Do you ever feel like no one is listening?
Choices, choices, choices.
Of course you appreciate the sun
When it arrives finally.
Like a desert in bloom
We beam unnaturally.
Should make the most of it
While it lasts.
And then you forget
When green now gleams
Textured by the blue
And the divine glow.
You want to grasp every moment.
Host an ENORMOUS party
And swim at every high tide.
Until the jellyfish arrive
Or an algal bloom.
So it’s not quite perfect.
I know that
But I’ll keep hoping
Even when June slides into July
And there’s still no sign
Of that white whale surfacing.
Feature Image: Carty’s Strand, Coney Island, Co. Sligo – Author’s Picture.
