Tuesday, December 11, 2007

...
My child poet picked out the letters
On the grey stone,
In silver the wonder of a Christmas townland,
The winking glitter of a frosty dawn.
...
I nicked six nicks on the door-post
With my penknife's big blade—
There was a little one for cutting tobacco,
And I was six Christmases of age.

My father played the melodeon,
My mother milked the cows,
And I had a prayer like a white rose pinned
On the Virgin Mary's blouse.


From Patrick Kavanagh's poem, A Christmas Childhood. The whole poem is lovely, and can be read here. The photo was taken out our back door Sunday morning. The camera couldn't quite catch the sparkle in the branches...

5 comments:

Marie said...

I love those last two lines.

GrandmaK said...

Makes me homesick for the Wester skies!! And the poem is so touching.

Lisa said...

Isn't this a beautiful poem? It rhymes better if you pronounce it with an Irish accent. Love to do that! &:o)

Marie said...

Christmas is SO wonderful..I do so miss my mother at this time of year.

Great reflection:).

Marie *waves to the other marie* lol.

SuzyQ said...

Oh, that picture is just magical.
And the poem matches it
perfectly:0)
Just lovelyxx