(15/07/56 / Curragh Camp, Co. Kildare, Eire.)

Creation (For Lyn)

First he carved
the water

whittled it
dropp by drop

placed it just so...in place

‘til it gleamed
with its perfection.

Then, with a sigh
he fashioned grass

stroking it
until it lay gentle

under his
tender hand

sky a blue
he just wished

and it was...just was.

My uncle creating
the world

as I listened
to his whistle

watching the world
come alive

under the flash
of his blade

whittling into being

(all things)

all things.

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Comments (1)

When I first read this, I thought you were talking about God...but then I remembered there are some adults who SEEM like gods to us as children, and I am reminded that this is one of the things you do best...remembering, with your child-like innocence what it WAS LIKE to be that child, and then writing it down. Every one of these that you write seems so real to me that I could shut my eyes and be a child again too. It is ONE of the things I love about your writing. Scarlett (LYN)