Ode to Ireland

By Anna Zabiega

Four fields of green,

Eternally so green,

Thriving, growing, nourished

By the unremitting rain

That blesses these hills and cliffs,

Existent longer than time itself.

Buildings tall and small,

Reds, yellows, blues, stone and art,

Murals of giant faces and dead rock stars.

Musicians busking fill the air

With melodies that thrill your soul.

Flowers and lights ornament streets and shops,

Stone streets and stone fences.

The same stone that lies beneath

Our feet and builds the high hills,

Out of the city. Farms unrolling for miles

With cows and horses sauntering and feasting.

Wildflowers, so small and colorful,

Grow out of cracks between rocks

Tiny pieces of a shattered rainbow

Sprouting out of the ground.

Grassy hills covered with sheep,

Specks of white against the green.

Valleys with streams, strong currents,

Tides rising and falling as the minutes go by.

Castles and ancient homes withering

On the side of the road.

Bullet marks still etched into the columns

Of a post office. History is everywhere.

Rocky beaches, water always frigid to the touch.

On a sweet warm night, relax

At wooden pubs with local beers,

That bitter black stuff refreshes.

Enjoy the live music, guitars and woodwinds

Mesmerize the crowd.

Indulge in potatoes, cheese, and dark bread,

One hundred percent Irish beef and chicken,

Delicious as the weekend market

Where farmers sell fresh produce

And food trucks serve crepes and donuts.

Craftsmen sell their leather and wooden goods.

All the craic encompassed within these

Four fields of green,

Eternally so green.