MICHAEL HARTNETT POEM

I SAW MAGIC...

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I saw magic on a green country road -

That old woman, a bag of sticks her load,

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Blackly down to her thin feet a fringed shawl,

A rosary of bone on her horned hand,

A flight of curlews scribing by her head,

And ashtrees combing with their frills her hair.

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Her eyes, wet sunken holes pierced by an awl,

Must have deciphered her adoring land:

And curlews, no longer lean birds, instead

Become ten scarlet comets in the air.

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Some incantation from her canyoned mouth,

Irish, English, blew frost along the ground,

And even though the wind was from the South

The ashleaves froze without an ashleaf sound.

.

Michael Hartnett

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See Also
http://dewofhermon.blogspot.com/2008/08/michael-harnett.html

See also...