The True Home Is In the Heart

Last night I dreamed I was in Ireland
Somewhere around the Cavan/Meath boundary,
watching brillant clouds, and the play of light on endless hills;
a skyful of shadow and fire.

The memory of those clouds stayed all morning,
and some part believed myself in Ireland:
corn flakes and strong tea for breakfast.

Then, 10AM, I saw those clouds again
blazing behind buildings now, over foreign trees,
dark and fringed in finery.
The bus coming, and time for only one poor picture.