Inis Oírr

Fields separated by stone walls

Fields separated by stone walls

Island of saints and scholars,
castles and cairns.

This one’s the oldest,
Kevin says,
Bronze Age. There’s more,
if only you had time.
He clucks to Dolly, shakes the reins,
and she walks on.

The old ones took stones from the fields,
stacked them for walls,
and built up the fields again
with sand and seaweed.

Now cows pasture here,
moving from field to field
They graze all winter,
the grass still grows,
even sweeter in winter.

Not so many.
They climb out and run around —
too much trouble, sheep are.

Cattle, now, they stay.
And we have fine cattle,
strong and hardy,
good breeding stock.

Everyone knows everyone else
and the school has just two rooms,
all that it needs.

St. Kevin is the patron saint.
He visited here, y’know,
so that’s the church name.
We have a lot of Kevins still,
so many that we need to use two names.
I’m Kevin Joe or Joseph
so the post can find me.

We all speak Irish here,
always have.
Now the rest send their children to us,
summer vacations,
to learn the old tongue.


1 Comment

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One response to “Inis Oírr

  1. Michele Richens

    My friends and I took the tour with Kevin and Dolly and what a wonderful tour it was.

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