Éamon Mag Uidhir


So he said           there’s not much good
        in having a bee-loud glade and
        keeping the double-glazing shut.

And I said             you won’t find me
        putting up with a draught.

Then he said        you should just listen
        to the bees and the birds.

And I said            there’s no birds
        out there, only crows.

And he said          crows are birds.

Then I thought    what can I knit
        him for his birthday that he
        won’t like, that I can scold him
        for not wearing, ungrateful pig,
        for the rest of his days?

And I said             hand me down
        me knitting basket, will you?

And I thought      I’ll have the house
        off of him if he doesn’t
        watch out.

Then he said        I’ve a thirst on me
        that’d cut a throat.

And I thought      if only it’d cut yours.

But I said             why don’t you pop over
        for a jar and see if your pals are in?

And he said          yeah I might in a while.

And I thought       they’re like children
        really, though with a child you
        can always look forward to
        them leaving home for good.

Éamon Mag Uidhir is a Dubliner living in County Kildare. He has had poems published recently in Cyphers, The Moth, Crannóg, Revival, and online in Misty Mountain Review. He edited Icarus while attending TCD during the 1970s and currently maintains an online shrine to the sonnet form at www.sonnetserver.com