photograph of lough Ash by Gareth Wray
THE MOUNTAIN
As I walk at dawn through wet bog land
The morning dew wets my heavy boots.
I tread upon the multi coloured moss mounds
And watch the juices ooze beneath my feet.
Another few steps the scene changes.
Bog cotton drying in the morning breeze.
As it gently moves them like white waves on the ocean
Being stirred by an unseen force.
My feet are now on firmer ground
Blue white and purple hanging beads
Of freshly sprouted mountain heather.
Pale green shoots of grass await the morning sun.
A yellow glow on the horizon.
It glances off white fluffy clouds
Giving them an ever changing colour of red and crimson.
The morning mist still floats in the valley below.
Beach and sycamore trees on higher ground peep their heads.
I stop in fear that my next step might disturb the beauty
That no verse of poetry could ever do justice.
A lark disturbs the silence as it distracts me from a hidden nest.
I catch the attention of sheep in the distance
I now find myself standing on a bog bank
Where my ancestors for generations have stood before
I thank them for drawing me to share this scene of beauty and tranquillity
That no earthly being could ever create
If heaven is anything like this that’s where i want to be.
Paddy Montague
First published in a collection of poetry entitled, ‘The Language of Imagination; by the Omagh Open Door Poetry Group in 2014
My thanks to poet and storyteller Paddy Montague for allowing me to post it on my Facebook page and writer’s blog
Gemma Hill Writeyou Writeme 