Between the River Lurgy and the Leannan, j ust outside the village of Estrin,
There’s a small cluster of houses, brightly painted, and a bed of flowers edging
The road I’m travelling, at the sight of which a sudden emptiness full of light
Is what I become, as if I’d had a glimpse of something no words fitted but
It had the reality of radiance-a halo shaping itself around the walls of those
Small houses and round the flowers growing in the shelter of wet hedges and
Around the rain as it fell in fine drops on the heads of four sand-coloured cows
Lying like icons of patience in the open, jaws meditatively munching, their eyes
Open to the wind and rain of another ordinary day in the green world between
The rivers Lurgy and Leannan, just outside the tiny, centreless village of Estrin.