Samhain 2015: Creative writing
Martin brought his ash plant down on Duggan’s bald head.
“I’m no Hello Johnny like poor old Sonny Gill”!
I dragged my creepy closer to the blazing turf-fire to fully savour the
Martin hated Tanglers!
He only dealt with Real jobbers from the planes of Meath and Kildare.
The year has quietly turned again.
Conkers seasoned in soot and smoke,
Ribald youth, apples, nuts, barnbrack,
Ducking, daring, giggling, cheating, courting, fighting,
Floor drenched from upturned basin.
Haggards of hay, oats, and long black pits.
Has enough been reaped from warm sunny days?
Old men talk of seasons past and wait for Winter.