The Old Road Poem by Brigid Walshe

The Old Road

In Castlepollard,
Hiding from the concrete way.
The old road hosts battles.
Dandelion, daisy, primrose, bluebell
spurred by spring's warm call,
fight to lay seed before
shadows of summer bloom.
Frond curls unfolding,
Fleece on barbs.
Engines forgotten in a gentle buzz.
Nets of spider's silk,
woven orbs,
Ivy tangles
shelter the winged.
No silence in the quietness
Song of wind, feather, wing.
The old road ends.
Nature's sanctuary.
Moments of wild,
rainbows engulfed in leaves,
In a step,
the old road stays behind,
wild,
unhindered,
alive.