Postscript by Seamus Heaney

2116

And sometime 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 the stones

The surface of the 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 neither here or 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.

 

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