Mantra Post- Storm Desmond
After thirty-six hours indoors while Desmond
Raged, we break out into the flooded country
To walk wherever walking is possible. On heights
Above Crookhaven, the broken muddy road slides
Down to the sea and waves and rock make networks
Of spray to say there’ll be no easy aftermath. A bog
Pony on a tether grazing looks up and fixes us,
Its tail dragging on the restless green till it steps
Onto macadam to confront, saying, join me.
Bog pony.
After thirty-six hours indoors while Desmond
Raged, we break out into the flooded country
To rise up through Barnancleeve and twist towards
Durrus, heading to Bantry as 4.30-night closes
Over and then dark flash over road, an auburn
Squeeze through hedge — vanish — a stoat
Disturbed by us and the post- that doesn’t
Mean an end, a lull between, a reworking.
I thought it was. So did I. Sharp teeth blind.
Bog pony. Stoat.
After thirty-six hours indoors while Desmond
Raged, we break out into the flooded country
To return home as more rain starts its fall,
To taunt the swollen, taunt reflections of an over-
Polished stone cradle. Rat across the road,
Rattus rattus, sudden in apposition to itself!
To us wondering vole body but then up to sniff
Rank air and look so faultless in headlights,
So exquisite parting reeds and bracken, an edge.
Bog pony. Stoat. Rat.
