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Old

A Very Warm Day In Early February

Posted Tuesday 17th November 2009 at 22:34 by Francis Duggan
White butterflies with dark brown spots on their wings their type around these parts not rare
So very beautiful for to look at dancing in the warm Summer air
The goldfinches sing in the sunlight and on the red flowering gum tree
The rainbow lories gathering nectar are a thing of great beauty to see.

A warm day in early February the paddocks look bare, brown and dry
For months the creek has not been flowing and not a rain cloud in the sky
Climate...
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Old

He Was Born And Raised By The Mountain

Posted Tuesday 17th November 2009 at 22:30 by Francis Duggan
He was born and raised by the mountain and the memories he retain
Of the old fields by the river flooded after heavy rain
And of the cold days of Winter when the chilly winds did blow
And the hill and the high fields by it wore their Winter cloaks of snow.

He was born and raised by the mountain where in the mildness of the Spring
On the hedgerows and the high wood the nesting birds did whistle and sing
The skylark flew above the mountain he seemed...
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Old

A January Morning In Knocknagree

Posted Tuesday 17th November 2009 at 22:25 by Francis Duggan
It's cold in Duhallow this morning and the fields that were green yesterday
Lay chilled to the frost that the night brought a cover of silvery gray
And the little dunnock on bare hedgerow too cold and too hungry to sing
On nude branch he perch sad and silent the hardship that January can bring.

The robins and sparrows by back door like beggars they wait to be fed
In hope that when breakfast is eaten the housewife might throw out some bread
With no...
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Old

When I Return To Millstreet

Posted Monday 16th November 2009 at 22:38 by Francis Duggan
When I return to Millstreet it will be in the Spring
When the fields are full of wildflowers and the nesting songbirds sing
And the hawthorns will be laden in their white blossoms of the May
And the skylark will be carolling above the rushes all the day.

When I return to Millstreet the fields will be lush and green
And the bluebells will be blooming on the ditch of the bohreen
And though I may be a stranger to many there I will meet
At heart...
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Old

In The Wood Over There

Posted Monday 16th November 2009 at 22:34 by Francis Duggan
I hear the wild birds singing in the wood over there
Their songs clear and melodious in the clear morning air
The children of Mother Nature are welcoming the day
Their songs much like a birthmark to their identity a give away,
A pleasant Summer's morning of around twenty degrees
And white butterflies are flitting around the garden trees
In the calmness of the morning there is hardly any breeze
And the air is full of the buzzings of the nectar gathering...
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