After my work-crew teens went home I stayed at
the bridge indulging my perfectionist tendencies
scraping the last of the moss and woody weeds
from the stone’s joints … and so discovered tucked
within a crack a tiny ring-necked snake pencil slim
perfect in its neat grey skin Minutes later riled
yellow-jackets swarmed from a hole stinging through
my gloves my clothes …and chased me from the bridge
They could not be allowed to live where people pass so
close each day …but later I thought… is the wasp less
perfect then the snake …are not all nature’s children
innocents living obedient to their calling… ? Each day
begins without fanfare is engaged unsuspecting not
knowing when the turn will come …if there will be one
lovely! speaking of Seamus Heaney, sort of, have you been to the Irish Hunger Memorial in Manhattan? it is amazing. i have some pictures from a NY garden binge I did in June…
Sorry. I just got around to reading this. No, i have not. Id like to see your pictures. Maybe i can go there my next trip to NY.