Poem for a Sunday Morning

Nonce Words

The road taken
to bypass Cavan
took me west,
so at Derrylin
I turned east.

Sun on ice,
white floss
on reed and brush,
the bridge-iron cast
in an Advent silence
I drove across,

then pulled in,
parked and sat
breathing mist
on the windscreen.
Requiescat…
I got out

well happed up,
stood at the frozen
shore gazing
at the rimed horizon,
my first stop
like this in years.

And blessed myself
in the name of the nonce
and happenstance,
the Who knows
and What nexts
and So be its.

{Seamus Heaney, from District and Circle.  2006}


white boat on seashore near mountain under white and blue sky

Photo by Simon Matzinger on Pexels.com

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