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Cathedral in the Fields Collection

An ongoing collection, reflecting on rural life and societal change in Ireland in the 90's & 00's.

It examines simple moments in youth and through  reflection, the true synergistic effect they can have on life in adulthood. 

 

Bales

Plip, palp and pop,

puddles of tar, full of tracks,

oil, smoke and Afton lift,

into  the nostril, on the dry summer drift.

 

Off you go, excitement and dread,

to a place where your raised and breed,

watching the axle clink and clunk,

through the gaps of the ever wandering timber punt.

 

Legs dangle by ditches,

cool breezes ease ankle itches,

in through the gap to golden paradise,

heads wobble with the tractor dice.

 

Topple, toss and feck the golden boy,

to the architect of the stubble horse of troy,

with mineral orange presented,

as reddening skin is resented,

 

The dusk sets over the crop,

the crew is ordered to the top,

hands skint, necks brown,

shoulder to shoulder playing with the moving ground.

 

Lift the lines, cut through the smoke,

share a quintessential family joke,

back home we go,

to let the climber put them under the red hot tin chateau.