Two poems from the anthology

Published December 2020 in Vessel of Voices, An Anthology of New Tipperary Writing

​Fall from Grace
 
Easter Monday,
the breaking of Spring
into long summer days,
with first swallows.
 
Such love took place,
scarcely by a glance,
a blossom was budding beauty,
arraying an undressed branch.
 
Those love born years
exploded, flowered,
then sadly fell from grace,
tranquil perfection, unholy devoured.
 
Sweet surrender is piercing and cold,
since the swallows have gone,
and we sacrificed
our two rings of gold.

​The Cherry Tree
 
Frosty chill and winter’s freeze
gave way to longer days of sun.
The cherry yearned to bud and swell
so fooled was she, by winds undone.
The bluebells on the forest floor
they too pushed up and breathed for more:
 
to come, like us; for summer’s sun.
But like Pandora, Eve, and like the Fool,
they trusted all too soon, as I did too.
Petals fell like seashells - pink, white and blue,
like the bruises on my ribs.  No longer
Adam’s love, but his disillusioned Fool.