Out of the gloom appeared Knocknarea, which is unmistakable with the little pimple on its summit. I had never seen it from so far away before - there were at least thirty kilometres to go before I reached Sligo.
I have lived near this hill for most of my life, but this view of it was something I had never experienced before. It was so grand there, so solid and sure of itself. A new perspective on a familiar landmark.
Out of nowhere,
The drive home from Ballina
Becomes a spectacle.
Heavy all day,
The clouds part and scurry off,
The curtains of the sky
And is clearly visible,
Though there are still thirty Ks to go.
The Queen’s hill is a button, a blister,
An unmoving nub
On the landscape.
A scab you just want to pick.
I have lived near it most of my life
But have never seen it
From so far away.
It is so grown-up looking;
Up close, it is an adolescent mound,
A childish swell of rock
That is barely a mountain.
But seen from Enniscrone, Easkey,
It is little but grand,
An ancient dwarf,
Dignified in its insignificance.
A tiny sign that home is approaching.
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