Sorcery in Caheraderry
The home grows from a ring fort
through the clay of Caheraderry
as we fish lines of syllables
from grey Liscannor stone.
Across a marshy field, flag irises
shine through this greener grass
oversee the lift and return
of two coffin stools
legs turned vermicular and
splayed to take the load -
appanages of dignity that lightly
held a master’s weight a month ago.
And like the sorcerer’s apprentice
we witness the breaking of a spell
that turns coffin stools back
into occasional tables.
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