And some time make the time to drive out west
Into County Clare, along the Flaggy Shore,
In September or October, when the wind
And the light are working off each other
So that the ocean on one side is wild
With foam and glitter, and inland among stones
The surface of a slate-grey lake is lit
By the earthed lightning of a flock of swans,
Their feathers roughed and ruffling, white on white,
Their fully grown headstrong-looking heads
Tucked or cresting or busy underwater.
Useless to think you’ll park and capture it
More thoroughly. You are neither here nor there,
A hurry through which known and strange things pass
As big soft buffetings come at the car sideways
And catch the heart off guard and blow it open.
“Postscript” by Seamus Heaney, from The Spirit Level. © Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1996.
“The surface of a slate-grey lake is lit / By the earthed lightning of a flock of swans,”
Wonderfully musical.
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I love that line. Just beautiful.
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Thank you for this. Seamus Heaney is a lovely, masterful poet. A friend just sent me When All The Others Were Away At Mass chosen Ireland’s most loved poem of the last 100 years http://www.rte.ie/news/2015/0311/686370-poem/
listen to him recite the poem here: https://youtu.be/ZbCCEdpQhlM
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Thanks for this, Jim!
Haven’t forgotten your other suggestion. Been fighting a bug lately, but hope to get some more posts scheduled here soon. I’ll let you know the date when I get it scheduled.
Hope all is well.
PS- “Digging” is one of my all time favorites. Reminds me of me and my grandfather.
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