Early On A Silver Frosted Morning.

Early On A Silver Frosted Morning.

Courtesy of 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 traps 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,
Planted row by frosted row
In the garden,
And urge me; he 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 this treasure,
And in this fairy foggy morning,
After a 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.
END

Tom Ryan, “Iona”, Rahealty, Thurles, Co. Tipperary.