An Irish Country Road

Yes, there are still places like this

More than you would think, though easy to miss

Far from the national rail networks

Though some lie amidst ruins of a British made one

Thick grass marking the middle of the road

The delicate squeak of a shrew

That would fit easily along your baby finger

And now it has disappeared

Stuck to the bottom of car tyre?

Clikety-clack of horse hoofs

A troupe of holidy makers

A barking of dog, warning the horses

Your time is almost up

Take shelter before the rain arrives

The baaing of sheep, ever present

And the buzz of sheep shearer

If you listen closely

Echos through the valley

All sounds underpinning

The fundamental silence

Of the country road