The River Shannon

There still survives a folkish whim,
Through days upon the river dim;

Chiming to a faery clock,
And fishing boots upon the dock;

Maidens kneel to dip their pails,
Their Irish wisdom not to fail,

Where shepherds with their strays do tread…
Near Shannon’s lovely riverbed.

-

Where dolphins flirt with Irish isles,
Flashing boats sleek dolphin smiles,

And mermaids comb their hair of weeds;
Long, red strands of fiery deed;

And sure as Shannon nightly flows,
Every midnight lantern knows…

That mermaids go to lay their heads…
Near Shannon’s lovely riverbed.

-

A wistful girl patrols the ground,
Her back to fading organ sounds;

Still sporting morning sermon’s dress,
Restless in the wind’s duress;

Like waiting for a seaborne coach,
She lingers as the clouds approach,

And feeds the blackbirds tufts of bread…
Near Shannon’s lovely riverbed.

-

Perhaps there sat an ocean blue…
Years ago, we never knew...

Where sullied ‘neath a younger sun,
Feral creatures come and gone;

Their shadows left to Irish-kind,
A wand’ring child on shore to find…

Patient fossils eon-bred…
Near Shannon’s lovely riverbed.

-

Rainclouds loosen bounties free,
Vapors stolen from the sea;

Unlawful gifts unto the glade,
Where dangling toes and bobbers wade;

The gracious river greets the kiss,
Unmindful of the hail and hiss,

And thus the mystic rains are fed…
To Shannon’s lovely riverbed.

-

Where herons prod behind the haze,
Majestic with their soulless gaze;

The shoreline where a rogue proposed,
And children lost in thought supposed;

Engrossed in faint, cloud-counting dreams,
Pierced alone by seabird screams;

The mythos of the past undead…
Near Shannon’s lovely riverbed.



- (c) Brandon Gene Petit
http://www.bgpetit.com


Dreams in the Womb