© Joe Canning. All Rights Reserved.
Last night in the depths of my slumber,
A portrait of home came to me,
I stood at the foot of mount Brandon,
Enthralled and bewitched by the scene.
The butterfly danced o’er the Barrow
The barge drifted silently by
I was back home in old Graiguenamanagh
‘neath the blue of a Kilkenny sky.
I waved to the bypassing boatmen
As they carried the stocks from the mill
As their collie dogs barked at the swallow
As his breast skimmed the waters all still.
I remembered the old church at Ullard,
And the lessons they taught me at school,
Of the ruins where holy Saint Fiachra,
Read tales to his flock from the Book.
And then; I saw there in it’s beauty,
The bridge that I crossed as a boy.
It’s grey stones reflected on water,
A magnificent moment of joy.
I woke to the sound of the city,
And gone was my Blackwater stream,
Gone was that trip to my childhood,
And gone was my Kilkenny dream.
Photo: Graiguenamanagh Bridge, Co Kilkenny