Firstly, they cascade clear, cool, water
down carved stone stairways while
splashing spouts soar through falling
fountains, mist becomes mesmerising.
Then, they shine bright lights through
endless drops of water rising, falling,
colours chasing each other, dazzling
the eye, spectrum becomes surreal.
Finally, they add music, pouring perfect
notes through water, through light,
liquid notes creating a crescendo
of
colourful
cataracts.
There are swans on the Corrib,
Along Quay Street the pubs are
Filled to overflowing.
They play Edith Piaf in cafes
While patrons patiently wait.
Outside, buskers ply their trade.
Behind the old Spanish Arch
We find the new Museum.
There, Johnny Faulkner and friends
Transport us with old sea-songs
Beyond the river’s open mouth
To Greenland whale fisheries.
Voices tell the shanties rhythms.
Eyes closed, to listen close,
I follow the music’s rise and fall.
Singers’ voices in harmony
Take us until we return
To the museum’s sunlit room.
Outside, the swans glide by, mute.
This was published as part of Kilkenny Library Poets on Board Scheme
