Among the Clints

Deborah Guzzi

In this gray hinterland embraced by bay and sea,
between the cracks, all crisscrossed, alpine flowers grow.
Blooms root among the clints sheltering in the lee.
Within each sheet of limestone which streaks the tableau,
the gods have brought surcease with the beauty bestowed.

Artful light strays here upon the portal stones
and a hidden river plays music down below,
flowing toward fair Moher cliffs, Hag’s head, The Crone.
Life held fast here; the sweetest meat is near the bone
in the birthplace of Kings, O’Connor and O’Loughlin,
refined here distilled, perfume in a silver cauldron.

Lack has not held sway here; pleasures have been honed,
in these treeless, rock-walled fields, butterflies fly free
reminding us there needs-be a place for small beauties.

Lugh* blessed the Burren where the prettiest blossoms bloom
for the waters flow down deep here into Aillwee’s womb.


*Lugh is a god of Irish mythology portrayed as a youthful
warrior hero, a king, and savior. He is associated with skill,
crafts, and the arts as well as with oaths, truth and the law.