Welcome, Traveller!

TOWARDS LECANVEY
Poem by Ger Duffy

Stop a moment by the idle wall, look
right to the red rusting boathouse, tall trees
whispering, sheep bleating. Look left, follow
the waves, their bluegreen sheen domed by the sky,
bend and dip with the coast road. Long fingered
land lingers, to reappear as humpbacked
hills dotting Clew Bay. Clouds scud across Croagh
Patrick, colour changing as you watch. Four
hundred walked to Delphi Lodge in search
of food. They lie among potato drills,
roofless abbey walls, standing stones, yellow furze.
The rise of land dominates, insists that
you walk on it, admire it and know your
place in the scheme of things.