dun eideann

86. Home

How often do you long to see
  the countryside stretching for home,
 where the breathing breeze
  is free of the city’s grip,

do you still hear your soul
  reminding you to retreat
 to once where time laid idly
  amongst daisies and mossed rocks,

the moors, they loomed just now
  heathered before my eyes,
 blurring boredom spat by
  paid bee’s honeyed lies,

and winds ushered the fiddle’s cry
  so sweet, it ne'er does mourn
 its soliloquy, a tide’s return
  foaming with one’s youth gone by,

how often’s your skin
  embraced by its own self,
 unafraid in a mother’s arms
  where dreams are of angels’ flight,

I pray your heart keeps tapping
  for veins that blow the reed
 to sing to you gooseflesh –
  home upon your skin