Seamus has just flown in from Ireland...
Not one for dancing the night away, Brilliant Husband has gladly aquiesced his position as my escort to The Third Annual Willow Manor Ball.
Seamus has secretly agreed to read his poem, Sunlight, as we drive down
"There was a sunlit absence.
The helmeted pump in the yard
heated its iron,
water honeyed
in the slung bucket
and the sun stood
like a griddle cooling
against the wall
of each long afternoon.
So, her hands scuffled
over the bakeboard,
the reddening stove
sent its plaque of heat
against her where she stood
in a floury apron
by the window.
Now she dusts the board
with a goose’s wing,
now sits, broad-lapped,
with whitened nails
and measling shins:
here is a space
again, the scone rising
to the tick of two clocks.
And here is love
like a tinsmith’s scoop
sunk past its gleam
in the meal-bin."
Do I notice a slight twinge of regret that BH is not coming
as I take Seamus' hand, dressed in my fabulous gown
and step into our Bugatti?
(but perhaps it is the car he is pining for!)
No matter...my dancing shoes are calling
Yes Cinderella, you SHALL go to the ball!
See you all tonight! It's quite a long drive from here to there. Perhaps I can convince Seamus
to read Lightenings VIII too!
