Hummingbird
hummingbird
humming a tune,
happy in June
(when flowers
and roses bloom)
sipping nectar
its favourite food,
loved also by bees.

See her moonlight

bloom from thick forest

leaving the ground

plucking words from the stars

half heather mosses

deep purple wherries

It's New Year, 1979, at Funderland in the RDS in Dublin. 
In the cold calculation of the January air, a young girl tries to talk 

   The Mac drinks tea

in a dragonfly mug.

On the library floor

is a dragonfly rug.

Let's go once upon a time.

Let's stroll, let's roll with rhythm 'n rhyme

Let's dress up in a riding hood.

Let's take that shortcut through the wood.

It's five past three.
Sixty-four eyes look at me.
No. Sixty-two.
Not Matthew.
He hasn't learnt to read my face.
He's got digital. A disgrace!

The building is white,
ivy eating its way up the broken walls,
windows small
and scratched.

The walls of the room are white and clean -
all sign's of yesterdays sorrows scrubbed
away with bleach.

I am the clash and collide of the stars
because I create worlds.

I am the awareness of the trees
because I hear the wind.

I am angry. really angry. angry,
angry, angry. I'm so angry
I'll jump up and down. I roll on the ground
Make a din. Make you spin
Pull out my hair. Throw you in the air