I carry hope

Training rest-day ...

... and here's a Deirdre Shanahan poem, from the pictured 1989 collection:


Under the Trees

A houseboat waits for the lock to fill,
water gushes from a slit,
a little boy throws stones to his friend
on the other side of the canal.

On a Sunday afternoon we become ourselves,
green light filtering years
through a parasol of leaves.

Leaning against the stone wall
our haze collides.
The tiny hut is repainted, its chimney smokes
at the edge of the wood.

We follow the Earl of Essex's track
through Birch and cascading Larch.
I carry hope , a treasured stone in my pocket.

A lover of trees, he names these for me,
Hornbeam, Whitebeam, Juniper,
London Plane, Sycamore and Spruce,
branches inclining each into the other.

---

Deirdre Shanahan