The Wild Atlantic Way

The sweet Sky Road loop, wide open mouth
First northwards then south
Down to Roundstone today
Then back up again, hugging the Wild Atlantic Way.

Onwards to Kilary Fjord;
What a sight!
Clear, silky still waters
After the Atlantic’s might.

Salmon leaping striving to make that reach
Alas, alas too steep
But over and over they leap.

Down a track, looks inviting
Seems to be an end
Nothing more beyond here
Except America round that bend.

Down to Clifden beach
Now to paddle those feet
Warm shallow waters
Coral, seaweed and reef.

Omey Omey Island
Where the bones of the dead are washed upon the shore.
Where the living bury their dead
To lay forever more.

The great white dog
Seems to know every inch
Like the back of his paw
And seems to be offering, well; a tour!

Swans fill a lake
Rabbit holes a thousand or more
And now a skeleton
A large canine for sure.

Evening draws near
A calmness abides on this shore
There’s no place else for me
Of this now I am sure.

What a sight to behold
A breath caught around every bend and sway
Not a day goes by now without me thinking
Of the Wild Atlantic Way.

© Angela Dunning, 25 August 2014

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