Gullion Gazing
by Connie Sanford Jeffrey, 2001
Gullion Gazing, Gullion Listening
Over my ring of hills
the sun scatters
summer's beginning light
in evening hours.
Clouds lift and will settle again
around my shoulders;
my neighboring Cooley and Mourne.
And there is the music
faint and then louder
a melody to keep me awake
until dawn.
Who has come back again?
Not Lugh or Cuchulainn,
my lost children -
someone like them?
Someone who knows this music
from sun weavings of
how many mornings ago?
There is something different-
whistles soft and words
unheard before.
I have slept long
and gaze on new buildings,
new people gathering around
my winged mounds.
There is buzzing
in between my perceptions of song,
an interference,
a sweeping metal roaring above me.
I cannot register it.
It will be gone if I trust
in the new ones,
in words translating themselves
to warmth
to the people here
who touch me in light, in voices.