An Irish Country Road
John Anthony Fingleton
The road just sort of ambles on,
While not in touch with time,
With no heed to the traveler’s needs
Or any urgent nature they entwine.
It mimics a slow winding stream,
That has been cut by nature’s hand,
It takes account of solitude
And complements the land.
It sways around old churchyards,
Past abandoned famine homes,
Touches one deserted village
Snakes by fields of barley corn.
It has an ease about it,
As if carved by God Himself,
When He rested on the seventh day,
And took a soft stroll to catch His breath.
Author's Note: For one of the old Irish roads, of which there are many.
Poetry Atlas has many other poems about Ireland.
