Canals of memory

Sample piece from Canals of memory

All night, islands float in and out of my mind;
the Blasket Sound merging in a dream
with the blue Venetian lagoon.
Inishere, wet walls of grey stone
square off small fields,
a seagull's cry
from these dusty, sun-drenched campos.
Down a narrow canal
a gondola glides,
its curving shape contains a currach.
Water laps against ancient palaces,
caresses the landing stage.
A naomhog nudges into view.
Land-locked, I miss the ocean;
islanded, crave a city's embrace.
Here, in this dream place,
this intricate marriage of land and water,
I trawl the canals of memory,
hauling long-forgotten fragments of a life
out under Adriatic light.