8/23 “5- Dingle”
Today I tread the hem
of Ireland’s summer dress;
billowing in breeze, brisk by seaside –
sly peaks beside a timid tide –
beige sand iridescent under
layers of saltwater and sun.
I ride on the hills of her overskirt,
fabric patched with emerald and brown,
spattered with a pattern of wildflowers
and herds of grazing sheep,
and hostels for the wanderers to sleep –
polka dotted along patches of jade tweed.
I breathe her in
and her crisp perfume
river-runs across me,
threads through my skin
until I’ve become stitched
in her fabric, countryside.