Siuil, Siuil

i tripped today,


between the road and paddy's grave,

alone in the thickets and dusky heather,

and in the silken

morning fog.


the blackbird listened as i sat

and cried.

she was kindly, wrinkled,


naughty child, alanna

as she wiped the berry stains from my fingers,

the bloodstains

from my knees.

This poem is about: 
My country
Guide that inspired this poem: 
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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