Fionnuala Waldron

Birthday

Today I reached my 67th year.
Year piled on year,
without an even measure.
Some years stand still,
guard their memories like sentinels,
let themselves be counted.

Like those long summers, in the field
beside my grandmother’s house,
where once, a new bride in this home,
she planted daffodils.

Then, at fourteen, waist deep in sea water,
I watched the silver mackerel
swim between my legs,
as white gulls swooped.

Years later, with my children
in that same place,
I watched again, as the years
jostled and collided in their forward rush.

Time is such a slippy thing.

Sometimes, heavy with the weight of water,
it sits in clumps; one falls on the other.
Sometimes, sun-dried, it flows, unstoppable,
through my fingers.

Fionnuala Waldron has worked for most of her career in the field of education. She has been writing academically for a number of years and recently began to write poetry. Two of her poems were shortlisted in the 2020 Red Line Book Festival Poetry Competition.