Three Poems by Ann Egan

Forget-me-not in June

Midsummer has passed,
I search the tangle of
grass, flowers and shrubs
for that solitary glimmer.

Blue lasted all these weeks,
months now, dearest son.
For one more day
I find the forget-me-not.

Late in season, a single bloom
flowers hope beyond time.



Ripples

That stone is a rabbit
crouched in the stream,
paws grapple the depths,
eyes maze in the light.

Ripples tackle his back,
flow sideways by his ears,
snout trembles at scents
locked in grey memory.



Soldier Leaves

Golden lights play on leaves,
transforms them to soldiers,

their burnished buttons glow
as they fasten their jackets

and close in beating hearts.
They mount their horses

while sulphur musts the air,
hooves pound tales to stone.

Little boys soft in mothers’ arms,
snuggle into shawls as flashes

blue their eyes with dreams,
their fingers curl fragrances,

their toes wriggle with life.
Solid ground grips their feet,

chilly air reds their faces,
marches them to canon’s clasp.

Buttons glow harsh forms,
steel chills peaceful hold,

lurks in sun’s lull on leaves.

Ann Egan is a poet and historian from the borders of counties Laois and Offaly, now living in Kildare, Ireland.  Her poetry collections are Landing the Sea (Bradshaw Books) and The Wren Women (Black Mountain Press) and Telling Time, (Bradshaw Books, 2012). A novel, Brigid of Kildare was published in 2001.