Seo agus Siud Edition 9     May 2020           

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It’s nearly over

What’s to miss?

Late mornings in bed

Till Mass is said

In stately Cavan or elegant Mullingar

In noble Letterkenny, that lit the star

In dreamy Multifarnam, speaking from afar.

R.T.E. efforts to keep us in touch

With Fianna this, and Fianna that
Ane what they might be at.

They’re meeting, did meet, have met

Made progress.  On what?

A government.

But haven't we one.  No, not now.

We’re doing O.K., Aren’t we? and see

All we need, is to be

Alive, when this is over.

It’s nearly over,

What’s to miss?

Tony, dear Tony Holohan.

God You were good to make him.

Does his homework,

Delivers his figures, without gesticulation,

We’re up, were down, we’ll be here or there,

When? Where?

When Tony went to James’s

National panic set in

The one that knew

Had caught the flu

And we wouldn’t know what to do.`

It’s nearly over

What’s to miss?

Long quiet time to reflect, through the tattered rags of memory

To dig, to delve to find the inner self,

That needed awakening and weeding.

Action had been on the surface, seemingly.

We’ll miss cocooning,

It sounds precious and delicate,

Wise, with a wisdom

The world needs, and wants to keep.

Cocooners can’t look very far ahead.

But back is nice and easy, 

When one has time for it.

We’ll miss gazing in the park, trees, buds just turning to leaf, 

Pansies, primroses, hyacinths,

Daisies, awake till the sun sets

When they cuddle up, and envelop themselves

In the sleepy memory of the noon day sun.

Tomorrow they’ll be awake early

Earlier than us, who patrol the park

With slow watchfulness for the sneaky pothole, or hollow.

Page 2

It’s nearly over.

What`s to miss .

We’ll be revealed,

like the pale moon peeping,

When the cloud decides to uncurtain.

We’ll find the world again,

A different world

But then, we’ll be different too.

We’re cocooners, gate is locked,

So far, turn, do again

Long phone-calls

from cocooners, who need to talk.

Relatives moaning

about working from home.

So much nicer to be cocooning.

Cocooning A Poem by Vera McGrath