I’m becoming overwhelmed with the amount of stuff I could tell you about from my Ireland trip, so I’ll start with a poem about a specific moment. On the 15th of April, the last day on my trip, I did a tour from Galway up to Kylemore Abbey and back. I knew it’d be risky, taking a tour, as I’m the sort of person who loves to meander–not good for tight schedules! This poem is about the time I almost missed the bus at a brief stopover in Spiddal, on the West Coast of Ireland.
The Rocks
I had three minutes to get back to the coach,
and here I was, ten metres out to sea,
balancing on the rocks only just higher than the tide.
I needed to concentrate.
Already knowing my final goal,
now I had to think about two things:
Firstly, I had to glance few metres ahead,
to make sure I didn’t reach a dead end
of more ocean than rocks.
Next, I had to forget the coach and concentrate
on the rocks I was standing on.
Where should I position my foot?
Does the rock wobble?
How should I balance my weight?
Fortunately, there was also time to admire the heart shaped seaweeds,
dark green,
to feel them, bumpy yet squishy, like a thumb tac.
Also time to smell the salty fresh sea breeze,
to listen to the seagulls caw-caw,
and to the sea lapping against the rocks.
I got to the coach just in time.
‘I knew we were missing someone,’ driver said
as he closed the door behind me and drove off.
Sophie Aussie 