Today I tread the hem

of Ireland’s summer dress;


Inch Beach

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.