The river flew into his shoulder.
by Dónall Dempsey
a cloud perched on the top of his quiff
(blown about a bit by the day
becoming colder) .
A train entered his left ear and
departed from his right.
Birds scattered & clattered from his
I was his little boy &
he was my big man.
I took four steps to every one of his
tying manfully to fit into his stride.
I was holding his hand
I still remember my Dad
on that day
exactly as he was
when the river flew into his shoulder
And the rain fell all about him