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 A poem by John O Rourke

 

Cuilcagh on Christmas day is squat and  immovable.

Stolidly I ascend the Oggal road towards Unshago.

Near the top Surveying North-Westerly in utter silence there is meditation.

A reed quivers in the mild light.

Man is thinking reed, Quinlan,the old professor once remarked.

In lotus position there is only God.

Ben ,

elongated, and back far reaching runs out to Sligo,

Its mountain a foggy grey blue.

Two bushes-branches entwined are dancing

One a Hindu goddess reaching out

The other in awesome rapture appears to bow.

 

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