A four foot box, a foot for every year.

But still he was glad, I know, when I stood my ground, Putting it up to him With a smile that trumped his smile and his fool’s errand, Waiting for the next move in the game.

Unfazed by light, to make a new beginning: And make a go of it, alive and sinning, Ourselves again, free-willed again, not bad.

In drifts of sleep I came upon you Buried to your waist in snow. You reached your arms out: I came to Like water in a dream of thaw.

Masons, when they start upon a building,
Are careful to test out the scaffolding; Make sure that planks won’t slip at busy points,
Secure all ladders, tighten bolted joints… Never fear. We may let the scaffolds fall
Confident that we have built our wall.

When you plunged The light of Tuscany wavered And swung through the pool From top to bottom. Your fine swimmer's back and shoulders Surfacing and surfacing again This year and every year since. 🏅🇮🇪

“In our deepest moments we say the most inadequate things. Darkness is drawn to light, but light does not know it; light must absorb the darkness and therefore meet its own extinguishment. When anyone asks me about the Irish character, I say look at the trees.” Edna O’Brien RIP

We marked the pitch: four jackets for four goalposts, 
That was all. The corners and the squares…
Youngsters shouting their heads off in a field 
As the light died and they kept on playing 
Because by then they were playing in their heads

Getting started, keeping going, getting started again — in art and in life, it seems to me this is the essential rhythm not only of achievement but of survival, the ground of convinced action.

IN A LOANING Spoken for in autumn, recovered speech Having its way again, I gave a cry: “Not beechen green, but these shin-deep coffers Of copper-fired leaves, these beech boles grey.”

Fermanagh stonemason Michael Gerard Hoy shaped these famous Seamus Heaney words from stone.

Being with her Was intimate and helpful, like a cure You didn’t notice happening.

Believe that a farther shore Is reachable from here. Believe in miracles And cures and healing wells.

All throwing shapes, every one of them Convinced he’s in the right, all of them glad To repeat themselves and their every last mistake, No matter what.

The atom lay unsplit, the west unwon, The books stood open and the gates unbarred. The maps dreamt on like moondust. Nothing stirred. The future was a verb in hibernation.