Tuesday, August 22, 2017

Irish lichen poem

Map Lichen on Slievetooey

Up on this bare summit
where fierce weathers pare
heather and peat down
to its skeletal bone
until the cairns groan
like gods in labor
I check my route and
watch a hare white
in its winter coat sit
back in a gap of light
scanning a stone whose
lichen maps
worlds
unknown to me and
cartography.

Francis Harvey

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