By Mary Moloney
…….there’s O’Rielly the butcher closing his door on pictures of meat hung on
hooks and carrying a bag full of kidneys and liver for breakfast and dinner
Macy the baker is already in bed with dreams of flour filling his head Mrs Mac
stays longer to poke the embers for old Tom with a mouth full of gums and no
teeth to bite on father O’Leary gives one last look up the tabernacled aisle
before bowing his head with a christ like smile then it’s good night to the
McGuires six children all giggling at elves as they scamper the floor watch out
for Finbar as he cycles along wrestling with shadows and leaping to song
Danny will tell you as you walk through his door to leave that crowd of
hobgoblins on another shore while autumn tilts red across the turf and the
bread and Bridie hums quietly into collar and cuff there’s one for the hen that
never lays eggs and two for the heifer she would rather was dead how are
you Michael sure i am always the same isnt it better to be this way than
crippled and lame oh god hang your coat and hat on the door and sup on this
whiskey until you feel no more the fields are bent heavy with the weight of the
herd while Mary Careys soft song is never heard the graves of Tuamgraney
like letters from the dead are laid out in lines on a hill silent and still Tommy
looks over the rim of his stout and curses the day his glass eye fell out rolling
across the path of a jig it was cracked in two beneath the heal of a shoe the
pine marten pads along the forestry road pricking her ears for a mouse or a
vole the boys with their sticks come home from the game with smiles and a
song they must have won for Noel and Molly down by the cross where the
rebels were hung its a night for lovers all curled and spun Paddy will tell you if
he catches your ear that theres money buried every year think of it sitting
there under our feet and theres Colm with no money for meat this is the time
that stories get told as the fire in the grate crackles gold Tuamgraneys is the
place for the best beer and stout its only misfortune is the road out…….
Author Bio:
Mary Moloney retired health care worker living in Eastbourne and a member of the Anderida Writers group where I can often be found struggling to write!
Email: darmol2003@yahoo.co.uk
