By Mary Guckian
The Big Snow 1947
I am four-and-a-half
remembering my mother
opening the back door
the weight of snow lying on it
tumbling into our kitchen
melting into water as the fire
was getting poked and sparks
came from the ashes after
the night before, setting
the wood and turf blazing.
Remembering my father
getting a shovel
digging outside along by
the window sill where tightly
packed snow had reached.
He got to the tar barrel,
water was frozen, digging
along the cowsheds and pig house
reaching the hayshed,
then taking cut hay to warm
up the cold animals, later
making a path out to the lane.
Dandelion Market
Every Sunday crowds gather
searching for bargains
amongst the junk
at the Dandelion Market
off St. Stephen’s Green.
Lots of people
drinking soup or coffee
heating their bodies
as stall holders wait
for the swarming crowd
to spend money
or strike a bargain
on this cold winter’s day.
At Books Upstairs
I met you there,
outside Books Upstairs.
Some places are cosy,
romantic, full of charm.
And when I pass
I remember back
to the first time we met.
How the spot stays in my mind,
makes me feel good
each time I walk that way.
Silence
Silence can be happiness
silence can be sad
silence can be penetrating
silence can be bad
silence can cause tension
silence can drive us mad
silence can be wonderful
silence can be unbearable.
Silence can be just nice
if two people love silence
it is a great gift
to lighten the noise around us
and bring some peace.
