i.m. my brother, Laurence Noonan
Fields know about endings:
a meadow folds to-and-fro
as first light slides away dewdrops.
Fields too understand calves’
thistledown, their breath cloud
fading to wherever warmth goes,
even the slow Rath River
remembers to dip below stone
during summer’s dry spells.
This June morning your land slopes
down to the clay-crumble gateway,
its grass bowing to the black
gleam of a hearse as it purrs past.
John Noonan grew up on a farm in rural County Longford Ireland. His poetry was Highly Commended for the Patrick Kavanagh Poetry Award in 2022, and he has published in magazines both in Ireland and abroad. John’s work has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and he has previously won The Goldsmith Poetry Competition.