Walter Under A Bale Poem by Paddy Glackin

Inuit lined face ingrained like oak from the surrounding bog
battered and scarred by life, wind and rain
Strong eyes grinning unimpressed by adversity
hand brushed black hair, wiry and unyielding.
Toiling through rushes taking fodder to beasts
Wellies slapping at your shins, in time with your breath.

While I looked out at you through a window
You battling under a bale; as I ate quiche
your tough fingers being hard pressed by bindertwine
Embarrassed afraid that you would see me looking
But now I know you thought nothing off it
Men were a luxury to you surrounded by woman

Your tough back meant to carry feed, to nurture and fodder.
You didn’t need me to carry. You wanted me there
You of all the woman wanted me to stay
And like a man you knew years before, I wouldn’t
When I left you shed a dry tear and thought most about me.
And me about you. Lovely lovely Walter.

PG 2003