It is a morning
of dreeping* hedges
and
the days are creeping
towards
that sacred event.

Crows
seem curmudgeonly
near mottled chimneys
and
a wisp of smoke
rises
bravely
in the woods.

The clouds hang low
over Rossbeigh and Inch**
though
a yellow eye
of light
peers nervously
nonetheless.

Give us faith, Creator,
in these uncertain times.
Reinforce
that child-lingering belief
that
we can awaken
to a brighter day
when
light                                                                                                                                                                                     
touches the world
like
a simple blessing
and morning
winkles
a sparkling wonder
from dark furrows
of clay.

© by Gerard Coughlan.
Used here with the author's permission.

*Irish word for drooping
**2 of Ireland's most beautiful beaches