Large Loss: Seamus Heaney

Field Notes (M.A. Reilly)

When word came that you had died, so little was left.
I turned to reread your words, to refill the loss with your voice.



Seamus Heaney - Blackberry Picking by poetictouch

Song

A rowan like a lipsticked girl.
Between the by-road and the main road
Alder trees at a wet and dripping distance
Stand off among the rushes.

There are the mud-flowers of dialect
And the immortelles of perfect pitch
And that moment when the bird sings very close
To the music of what happens.