House of Words

House of Words


Knockeven, County Clare



Wind off the water
from the Cliffs of Moher
or sweeping down the stones,
a lunatic learning the uilleann
pipes. Turf smoulders
in the stove. Leave a knife
on the gate, the wind
will edge it keen. Set
a gray bird in the hedge --
by morning, sheer bone.
Yet a single word's ember
passed hand-to-hand
can shear winter in half
or open the hive to shake
the frost from the comb.

by R.T. Smith