Tonight my husband and I are going to hear Seamus Heaney at the Weston courtesy of The Mercantile Library. I am looking forward to it a great deal as the following is one of my favorite poems. By the way, when we visited Gallarus Oratory we had to walk down paths lined with blooming fuchia and large, fat, shiny, furry bees were everywhere in a frenzy to drink the nectar. As we walked down the path, we would collide with mad bees which would bounce off our arms, chests, and faces and keep on flying to the next flower. I thought about that at the end of this poem:

In Gallarus Oratory
by Seamous Heaney

You can still feel the community pack
This place: it’s like going into a turfstack,
A core of old dark walled up with stone
A yard thick. When you’re in it alone,
You might have dropped, a reduced creature,
To the heart of the globe. No worshipper
Would leap up to his God off this floor.

Founded there like heroes in a barrow,
They sought themselves in the eye of their King
Under the black weight of their own breathing.
And how he smiled on them as out they came,
The sea a censer and the grass a flame.

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