On the ferry,
I liked sitting
on the edge,
looking down,
through dead water*.
…
I was returning
to a place
that was
and was not
my home.
…
I had never
been away,
returning
on the ferry,
looking down.
…
The River Suirs’
waters swirling,
muddy grey,
where it meets
the sea.
…
In the morning,
waiting, waiting.
Nearer now
to the quay,
where he’d be waiting,
with the brake and horses,
a pair in hand.
…
Home again.
Looking down through dead water.
…
©robcullen06032021
*Deadwater – the mass of eddying water formed along a ship’s sides in her progress through the water
Celfypridd 