It is Monday and we are skimming along
over rooftops and through Grand Canal Dock, who knew
the sunshine could be so delicious
they should put a warning on it
I‘m having so much fun with glass I could go blind
and at Lansdowne the train is more silent
than a train even should be and at the
next stop we‘ll pass
the family home where you are sitting
with your unbeknowing parents
and while we soar on past I look into
positively every window in order
to give your mother a signal that I exist:
maybe she sees me, who knows
on a June so blue and loving
we pull away into Booterstown
and time is a long cool tide and two towers
one for each of us and the single sip of a heron
laid flat on the back of June‘s hand
I will not stop smiling about you
you are the something summer was always meant for
and I wonder how we will love each other
so deliciously in autumn
I am making you a quilt of sky
and seawater in case we need to remember
the places we saw our happiness enlarged