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Wednesday, 24 December 2014

Paul

Why choose the musk cologne, what home awaits your husk, in Tuscany or Rome, stone the crows if you will
The chauffeur driven sedan pulled away slowly, from the inner city traffic lights, the old gentleman sat alone in the back, in his fine barathea blazer, green shirt and striped tie (his club tie)
The club where the chauffeur delivered him, every evening for drinks and dinner, dinner with his dwindling band of friends, dinner before being taken home to his expansive home, in the leafy suburbs, beside the lifelong rolling river Corrib
Why choose the leather bag, what goods await you, whether in Galway or Killarney, stay in the other man’s row if you will
The carpenter had the wisdom to take the advice of the ganger and the foreman, he had the sense of purpose to enroll in the college
He developed the strength of character to travel the world; plying his trade, sowing his seeds, feeding his mistress, caring for his wife and loving his children
His father gave him all he could, including the honesty of the people at the top of the hill
After his travels the carpenter returned to his home town of Donegal, he reflected on his life, sat on the cliffs looking out to sea; he sought out a new peace, which came to him in a moment
He told me “Christopher you have to be ready” “and you have to work at peace, for it is far harder work, far harder work than the work of a carpenter, or an engineer


From Christopher Sanderson's Ireland Poems
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