The Auld Bog Ways

The Auld Bog Ways

© Chris Barry

Workers bosom round a wafting bog-fire
As mid-summer’s heat brings rest to the tire
Banqueting in soda bread and freshly boiled cod
Cuisined in a Billycan o’re a smothering turf-sod

Futting and reeking an inherited feat
With corncrakes and falcons swooping the peat
Reeks created in a ritual articulate flow
As turf scent wafts in a mild breezily blow

At sunset the workers have a homeward start
Parading prize bounty in a capped creel-cart
Another turf-sod embellishes the hearth
As history is revisited in the turf-kindled warmth

Families nestle round repairing the trawl
A newborn swaddled in a turf-scented shawl
Tales of folklore revisited with delight.
While nocturnal images shadow the night

Spirits prowl heather-blanketed swards
As weary donkeys rest in barnyards
Guided by pathways of moonlit bog-cotton glow
Nocturnal creatures quietly forage to and fro

Showers foreseen by the swallow’s bend
Reminisce of reeks by a cottage gable-end
Time bequeath those memorable days
Gone are the donkey, the slaen and the auld bog ways.

Seasons Awake by Chris Barry

Seasons Awake

© Chris Barry


Spring brings April sunshine showers
Bouncing lambs and budding flowers
Gorse and sprouting headland groves
Primrose blossoms and furrowed troves

Summer buds the fragrant rose
Gracing havens where kinships muse
Meadows and headlands bouquets of joys
Dawnchorus, crimson twilights and laden hoys

Autumn hails the humble haze
Rustic golden leaves amaze
Gathering fruit from brambled crests
Harvest bless the homestead fests

Winter sets the countryside aglow
Mountains curvaceously topped with snow
Naked boughs chilled with icy grips
Christmas fests the Christ born scripts