Ireland's OWN Poetry and Prose

A Summer Sun
—by Míchealín Daugherty

When the crocus first pokes
Its hearty head through
The snow
The delicate fervours of spring
Silken the frosty air, knowing soon
Daffodils will peep
Through green-golden fields of hope.

But not far behind
A piper leads a melody
Of soft red poppies, who
Beckon sleep and burning heat
To scorch the leaves
And colour sky, with sheets
of heated futility
And a Summer sun
That laughs at tender violets
Who dared to languish
In the hope of Everlasting Spring.