Feamann Dearg
If god were here
She'd be a swathe of feamann dearg
loosely attached to a green rock
shining this way and that
teaching us about the weather
If god were here She'd be
a pair of faded denims
with four pockets front and back
one each for fire water air and earth
that I could slip into and revel
If god were my beloved
I would start laughing uncontrollably
and make such a drunken nuisance of my self
She would have to lean down
and comb me into her hair.
