.

ALONG A FEW IRISH   

BACK ROADS 

Roads, rocks, rain - 

glimpses of sunshine -

clouds  in muddy mirror potholes -

wind rushing to dry off the meadows

and push away the gray mist - 

so the tourists can see out the windows

of their big buses - and be nosy 

about who's who in these white washed thatched homes of their great, great grandparents - who had no food 

on their tables as they suffered 

the Great Famine and the troubles - but now these homes are the castle 

and the palace of their rich, mind you, 

rich distant DNA cousins - singing and dancing here on this green - green, - 

rain, rain - everyday island called Ireland.

© Andy Costello, Reflections, 2018