There’s a chair in Sheila’s lounge
A cosy seat
Looks out across the inlet from the sea
Rosmoney the location
Clew Bay the wide expanse
The open ocean running wild and free
The eye line of my vision
In that seat ensconced
Directly falls upon the window sill
And when the tide is running
And Rosmoney knows the score
The bay and all around soon have their fill
It seemed to me one afternoon
The tide now running fast
The water and window sill collide
The lounge becomes a forecastle
The house is now a ship
And we’re at sea on an Atlantic ride
And ships we know let water in
There is such a thing as bilge
That Sheila’s place has known a time or two
The moon strong winds and high spring tides
Bring ocean currents running wild
And wellies are the only thing to do
The sun the moon the tidal sea
Blue mountains all around
Fingers of water find their way inland
An edge of the world a face to face
The earth the sky the tidal race
That’s Karl and Sheila’s strand
Brian Fahy
23 May 2021
Erris Poetry 