Mothballed

We have just received news that all the current production and the threatened possible massive expansion of a local quarry has been ‘mothballed’.

 

In Celebration

 

Listen, can you hear the sighing of the Earth’s relief?

My cottage sighs along and smiles, she always

smiled, even on the grey hanging days that

had beset us in the dark times when even

Earth’s light faded and even she seemed sad.

My cottage smiled at signs of spring; she opened

out her doors for me, threw wide her windows

and her heart.

At night, even in winter, her enchantment  

would  prevail; she would grow brighter,  the dust

motes, cobwebs and all the mess would retreat.

Tonight, with just  the flicker of a smile

amidst the kindness of a lamplight’s glow

she tempts me from her fire of crackling logs.

Under the moon we celebrate the news;

we sing and whoop and clap along for joy.

I play music and only very softly  

shall I sing but my son will write and sing

his song and play guitar.  The neighbours will

rock, the fields shall resound, Michael will play

harmonica. And all will whistle, hum

or la de la.

And all should miss this,  if ever it were gone.

Listen, can you hear the sighing of the Earth’s relief?

 

Cait O’Connor