Home Along the River May 18, 2010Posted by Rambling Man in Poetry & Humor.
Tags: hook head, ireland, poetry, waterford harbour
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An old one, but a nice one all the same …
Home Along the River
by the Rambling Man
“You’ll be alright now, son!” he would say;
My gills as green as the sea being sliced by our bow;
And around the rocky point we would lurch – the tall tower
giving calm to the swell; inching inside her protection,
which could never come quickly enough.
The rocks of Hook draw lines that keep the maddening current in tow.
At Dunmore, the yachts are making for home on the tide.
I stumble from stern to midships, keen not to miss a thing.
The harbour’s form burning it’s place in my mind.
“Call out the bays and the rocks now, son!” he would say;
“Because I don’t want to get lost!”
And I’d jump to attention, glad to be back on hushed water.
Slowly they passed us, the river easing us home …
Hall Bay and then Boyce’s, with Creadan Head to your back.
The hatch patterned seats leaving marks on my knees.
“There’s Dollar and Booley!” I’d shout
Their crowdless beaches a sign that our own harbour was near.
“Can we go digging for treasure?” I’d plead,
until I outgrew the tales of the old folk,
who were rich from ingots found simply out walking !
A turn to the North meant I could command at the wheel …
The diesel engine thrumming a comforting song.
“Keep her straight now, son!” he would say;
“And line up the two towers in your sights” …
Rounding the Barrack, we’d laugh and talk about how
those on the Strand would rather be out here with us.
Tied up and safely ashore, the boat strains ‘gainst the current,
longing to bear us again, home, along the river.