Bealtaine, continued

We have revered the sun for some time—but now
we lament its daily brightness

—Nadia Anjuman, from “One Small Kindness”
translated by Diana Arterian & Marina Omar

I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.

Now the spotlight is on the sun, 

as if it needs any more attention. 

Its residue smears the field and laurel 

with a waxy shine. Nothing is dull. 

I’m never awake before dawn. 

Light smolders from beyond the sea 

well into tomorrow. Days are good 

for drying, when they’re long and winter’s 

layers are shed. Deeper we’ll go

until hydrangea are a muddle of moons 

after poppies tip over the wall. 

Weeks before we’re half-way through,

I’ll think of the dark readying its return.

Jamie O'Halloran, a grey-haired woman who looks out to sea from a lichen-covered, rocky shore. Her hair is the colour of the sea. Her scarf is the colour of the lichen.

Jamie O’Halloran’s Corona Connemara & Half a Crown was a winner in the 2021 Fool for Poetry Chapbook Competition. Her poems appear recently in Poetry Ireland Review, 14 Magazine, The Night Heron Barks, Crannóg, Southword, One Hand Clapping, and in the Dedalus Press anthologies Romance Options and Local Wonders. Her poetry reviews can be found in The Laurel Review, LitPub, and The Tupelo Quarterly. She lives above a river in the West of Ireland.