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Eamon Grennan | The Nation

Eamon Grennan

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Eamon Grennan

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Clouds curdle round it, crack open, let it through.
Radiance shades by cloudshapes; fat fruit
of incandescence; sphere of peeled silver. I wonder

Psalm after psalm into a dead sea of silence: they invite
their own enormous, endangered day. Scalded, lord,
by sunlight and the lizards watching, licking dust,

On slow wings the marsh hawk is patrolling

possibility--soaring, sliding down almost to ground level,
twisting suddenly at something in the marsh hay or dune grass,