Pt. 3 of An Eiry Journey: When Inspiration Falls

 

Have you ever heard

a bird hiccup?

 

Waiting on a bench by the water in phoenix park,

Waiting on something inspirational to fall out of the sky

So I can write about it,

I hear a couple of syncopated squawks from the tree

In which I am under,

And a heavy dose of bready bird turd plops upon the book

I had just layed down atop my backpack.

“A portrait of the Artist as a young man” by James Joyce.

I wiped the glob off with a leaf and laughed about it,

I guess its what I was waiting for.

 

 

Took the bus up to Drogheda, then connected over to Newgrange, where I luckily booked the baddest bed in the business, then walked over to the bru na boinne center, and took the tours to see Knowth and Newgrange, fascinating remnants of Neolithic tomb-temples. Newgrange is the home of the triskellion, and I can hardly digest the importance. Strange, back at the lodge they put me in room 36 and I didn’t even think about picking bed #3, but I did. I witnessed sunset from a nearby, nextdoor pasture. It didn’t fall too far from the tomb. This ancient countryside is beautiful beyond the bounds of words, in hills one can see the motherly curves that those ancient temple builders sought to honor, praise, and emulate. Venus showed her shine from the southwest, which I suspect was the direction of Rosa in relation to where I was. The clouds turned the color of love before nightfell, I saw six birds fly by, then a lone one taking leave towards Drogheda. Tomorrow I go back to the city, with some souvenirs I snatched from the grounds of Bru na Boinne.

(7/7/2010)