Poetry Writings Artwork and stories from Neil Furby

Aug 11, 2010 at 09:02 o\clock

FOR MY GRANDMOTHER, BRIDGET HALPIN Michael Hartnett

FOR MY GRANDMOTHER, BRIDGET HALPIN



Maybe morning lightens over
the coldest time in all the day,
but not for you. A bird's hover,
seabird, blackbird, or bird of prey,
was rain, or death, or lost cattle.
The day's warning, like red plovers
so etched and small the clouded sky,
was book to you, and true bible.
You died in utter loneliness,
your acres left to the childless.
You never saw the animals
of God, and the flower under
your feet; and the trees change a leaf;
and the red fur of a fox on
a quiet evening; and the long
birches falling down the hillside.


© 1967, The Estate of Michael Hartnett