A sudden slap of cold wind hits my face.
A gust of steely rain stings my eyes,
drags me from my weary reveries,
sets me down in this mysterious island place.
Once home to a fearsome warrior race,
here at the world’s edge land plunges to skies,
time is measured by Atlantic roaring tides.
Beyond Dún Aonghusa another world and space.
Here a cuckoo’s plaintive call shrouds a deadly quest.
Calling for a partner on a murderous mission
to hunt for a warbler or a pippit’s nest
and plant a greedy imposition
If Covid retreats to allow us take our rest
let normal be a new, fair and just revision.