JILL DEVITO

Northern daylight penetrates evening clouds

above grazing sheep who ignore the damp

but cast wary eyes in our direction

Hooves and boots sink into a living sponge

while we stand witness to the marriage of

Irish earth to Irish sky, green and gray

When earth and sky are strangers on this peak

a westward survey marks the blue boundary

that once divided this world from my own

Time dissolves in both directions here, but

with my hand upon the dolmen doorway

I know the sidhe is empty—the ghosts of

our people do not linger in the tomb