My last day here at the Irish cottage
Four days of fun, a long music workshop
Shaky Dawg will be rehearsing soonish
I’ll stay for that and then our time will stop
I’ll have to leave West Cork behind and drop
My car into the Irish interior
Where snow and ice have both been deadly dropped
At night, heading ever inland, my car
Occasional spots of light, headlights afar
Appear just as I crest a dark hill road
Disappearing, as down again I drop
Dark red car in the grip of Ireland’s jaw
Emerging as Dublin’s yellow lights flash
Till, by the quayside, the long ride will stop
Sunday 27 December
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