There are no skyscrapers here
I said to Uncle Hugh
We stood outside his house
One summer’s night
We looked around the valley
As quiet as could be
A pleasant evening
And a peaceful sight
All his life Hugh lived here
In this glen
He worked its soil
And reared a family
Not for him
The mills and mines of Lancashire
Or the choices that America
Might be
I had come from London
That occasion
Living life in crowded London streets
The hustle and bustle
‘It’s where life is’
The glen escape
My annual retreat
The river ever running
Through this valley
Assured me that some things
Will never change
The hills around
Like family members sleeping
Offering me their comfort
And their range
A pause while Hugh reflected
On my comment
Skyscrapers here?
No they won’t be around
But the man up high
Will scarcely manage living
If I don’t plant potato seed
In my ground
Brian Fahy
8 May 2021
Erris Poetry 