Early On A Silver Frosted Morning

Early On A Silver Frosted Morning

^{Courtesy Thurles Author & Poet Tom Ryan ©}

Early on a silver frosted morning
After a steaming cup of tea
In the uncle Pakie’s house out the road.
Shivering in my short trousers
At the prospect of digging the potatoes,
In the pit at the headland
Below the fence
With the cruel wire trap for the rabbits,
And beside the hen house,
With the eggs shining and white and brown
In all the secret haybarn places.
My nails would be sore with the frost
And the picking,
Then just when the winter had won
Pakie would point to the cabbage patch,
Row by frosted row
In the garden,
And urge me, whispering, to seek
The silver golden treasures
Of the Fairy of the Frost.
At seven I loved a secret,
And so, on wondrous adventure bound,
I sought the treasure,
And in the fairy foggy morning
After the search
Under a great big head of cabbage
There was the brown paper bag of wonder
With the chocolate bars
And the soft and hard papered sweets
In, oh, a myriad of magical colours.