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.