Dancing in the shade of a warship,
miles from anywhere,
a weary little nomad,
alighting to take refuge on the dark grey timber,
worn out and staggering,

Rest, be at peace,
staring fascinated,
remembering in the haze of this beautiful dusk,
past summers spent at home,

Lying in the rough grass,
lost in the movement of some tiny creature,
the world reduced to six inches,
before my eye,

The beauty of the moth,
fierce stripes and haughty hackles,
leaving a shimmering trail,
of fairies’ dust upon my fingers,

When I was small I thought to rub their wings,
to gather the power to fly away,
from hurt and pain of home,
to leave me out in the bog and heather,

Hide me lost mid field and stream,
rest my fellow weary wanderer,
I’ll place you in a safer spot,
we’ll both remain unseen.

by Ruairí de Barra (03/06/18)

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