Igloo-like
A round house made of sods
A home for hens
At the setting of the sun
I thought it looked so cosy
Warm inside
To sleep in there
I thought would be such fun
I didn’t know of foxes then
A child
Nor their wicked ways
When night had come
Burying through the walls
To get at feathers
Predator and prey
How this world runs
And I eat meat
The same as Mister Fox
Cow and hen and pig
Have served me well
Not forgetting lambs
Their hour of sunshine
Too quickly ended
Soon will come the knell
And thanks to telly
And to David Attenborough
I see predators at work upon my screen
Sharks and seals and killer whales
Eagles in the sky
Everything’s up for grabs
Or so it seems
And animals seem
Innocent of the harm
Of the danger lurking next to them
Billy Connolly and his wildebeest
Grazing on the plain
Oblivious to danger till it comes
Animals are living
In the present
Enough for them
The sunshine and the rain
The Ploughman Poet
Is the one to tell us
We humans know
The worry and the pain
For we look back
On things that cause us sorrow
And forward
To the things that might occur
Anxiety and depression
Then attack us
And scatter life’s simplicity afar
I leave the hens together
In their sod house
Beside Glencullen River
Long ago
And here in Stirling
Sit in my own dwelling
Happy in the family I know
And looking back
There’s pride
In how we travelled
Where obstacles and upsets hurt us so
And as for the future
And tomorrow
Well there are things in life
It’s better not to know
Brian Fahy
8 May 2021
Erris Poetry 