Layers Laddie, Layers

Celtic chills embrace me,

disguised as rain and wind,

challenge my blood in Union Hall.

Not just the sea looks back at me.

O’Sullivan you say?

We hold that quota teeming like

mussels washed in ocean butter,

kidnapped in the sandy bay.

My name like steely headlands

splashed on bricks above the door

established 1922 and then forever more.

Forged martyrs on the cobbler’s square

Scream whispers of the just

in piercing stoney silence

precipitate spry treasures

in nimble words of my ancestors.

Wade out amid sea juices

and never be afraid

your pants rolled up

like an egret deep in meditation.

Your roots exposed for all to see

Your soul exposed for all to see.

Wrapped in whittled rain

wrapped in that rascal rain

Floating like a swan

no ripples in her whirls

taking centuries to open

Christmas presents from the Earls.

                                            -Kevin Haley