Mary Guckian
The Weir at Lucan
In their coloured
anoraks I see young
people canoeing,
swinging their oars
as they tumble into
the frothy waters of
the weir at Lucan.
Around me daffodil
bulbs shoot stalks
out of the damp
earth, and I, on
this spring day,
clear my head of
the office banter
and the tedious
days of the week.
anoraks I see young
people canoeing,
swinging their oars
as they tumble into
the frothy waters of
the weir at Lucan.
Around me daffodil
bulbs shoot stalks
out of the damp
earth, and I, on
this spring day,
clear my head of
the office banter
and the tedious
days of the week.
Page(s) 28
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- Second Aeon
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