On the Burren

Had I been there alone

I would have only seen

Grassy paths and piled stone

Fences quadranting green.

But on those paths with him

We lost one thousand years.

Progress fled as a whim

And held time in arrears.

The limestone stretched below

The paths our feet pursued.

The clouds removed Sun's glow

And wind made noise subdued

With sly snapshots we stole

The fog and myriad greens.

We captured on a roll,

Our moments and our scences.

The rushing of wind

Above a niche in stone

Held ancient song and sin

We replayed as our own.

In the absence of time

And under fog's covers

This corner in the lime-

Stone held us as lovers.

-circa 2001