MACGILLICUDDY REEKS

Stories tell that the old Queen

 had visited these wooded wilds

aside the Killarney lakes

that lace the lower lands 

a’foot the high ranges of Tuathal’s sickle,

The Gap of Dunloe and Cnoc na Peiste.

Here, these ancient oaklands

tangled with bracken and grassy dells

are threaded with silvery streams 

their waters-falling into ferny rock-pools

overspilling into reedy bog and sedge

 bedizened with tiny flowers.

Stories tell of the little folk

of this animate, magian land.

But, galumphing mortals we, 

had only in mind to skinny dip 

dunking in the icy waters,

picking up stones.

Forgetting our shamanic, Celtic blood.

Over the bank, out of dense greenery

sudden movement - eyes.

Forms emerged, not just watching

but with clear words in my head:

What do you want?

They were tall, greeny, 

four-legged like deer. 

Eyes forward-looking - stereoscopic.

We, the interlopers.