Piebald Rug

Burgundy-earth
patches on cream,
soft as calla lily,
Together they melt
in a piebald union,
speaking of mountain
and shorn glory.

I think of my toes,
cradled by wool,
fresh from the beast,
it belongs here, the
first thing I feel
after sleep, warm
as the womb.

K. S. Moore

Flood

And the trees
are widows on water,
fanned digits miming
a bare, stretched dance.

They stand in a filling bath,
conscious of figure,
caught, in the dark part
of their lives

where loss is etched
in bones of bark
and they will be left,
drying.

K. S. Moore

Micropoetry can express a feeling or snatch a moment to perfection and these little snippets of literature are carved in memory.  ‘Piebald Rug’ draws on two strands of experience.  A couple of years ago, I spotted a gloriously cosy looking rug hanging up outside a shop in Glengariff.  It combined the brown and cream piebald colours, referred to in the poem.  In turn, the rug reminded me of a pure white one (also fur) that I used to own as a child.  I’ve never forgotten the luxuriuous feeling each morning, as my toes sank into it.

By contrast, ‘Flood’ has a lonelier atmosphere to it and was conceived in Lismore after heavy rain fall.  It is a reminder of the devastation that can be caused by extreme weather.  Trees symbolise our vulnerability as they stand, statuesque and stripped of leaves.  Let’s hope the colder months will be kind to us this year.