Burren Breaths

The setting sun oranger than usual for Ireland,

Lights up clouds across the darkening sky,

Climbing rope on your harness you must tie,

The cropping rocks casting long shadows,

Until they are jagged limestone silhouettes,

The low tones of the Atlantic smashing rocks,

You put on your climbing shoes with no socks,

The sharp sound of seagulls calling,

You put on your helmet in case of rocks falling,

The deep breaths of climbers fear,

Tourists driving rentals from far and near,

Giggles of success when you reach the top,

The sun has set but no way are we going to stop.

September 2016 Ballyryan

by Jessica O’Keeffe

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Ballyryan
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