CÉILIDH

By SIOBHAN HARVEY

Morning

Outside, autumn turns over
as the beat of a bodhran
Winter’s coming, winter’s coming, winter’s coming

Morning builds. Like a reel,
the first heat arrives, and with it,
leaves fall, dead bees, a cortege.

The slowstep into church is accompanied
by an organist and weeping in the pews.
Later, a feast, a céilidh. Far off, bells toll. 

*

Afternoon

Bells peel far away. A feast and céilidh await
like an organist and weeping in the pews.
The dance into church begins.

The cortege is bright as bees.
The bride arrives late. Heat reels
in the end of the day.

Winter’s coming, winter’s coming, winter’s coming
we say, smoking outside. To a bodhran’s beat,
the bride and groom begin their turn.

CÉILIDH

Related Posts

Image of Black Lives Matter written on the ground with dry flowers and a picture of George Floyd.

Delete/Recover

AKWE AMOSU
You can put your faith / in a book, pray from it, place it / under a sick child’s pillow, press / flowers between the leaves, / affirm love for the living, be / in the swim of things, learn / what is human from its pages / and become that. The book / will restore you, / reciprocate.

Exterior of a fruit and egg store in Madrid

Plenty

KATHERINE L. HESTER
I chose my frutería not by its quality—how could I know that before I’d sampled its three types of peaches (red, yellow, squashed into donut-shapes), its abundance of tomatoes, its fuzzy orange nisperos?—but because of its old-fashioned tiled façade. 

Kreptitz Cliff

Untitled (Letter to Rügen)

GUNTHER GELTINGER
The fields of flint rock bordered by the moors struck her as being from another hemisphere; on the Zicker Mountains she felt as if she were in Scotland; and the Kreptitz Cliff, with its windblown hawthorn bushes and allure for amber seekers, reminded her of a secluded coast in New Zealand, where she's never been.