Late Blight The field had spent years drinking rain and pills. Received infusions, dialysis, pesticide repair. Creeslough breathed again! Its scarred mouth opening, sleep-heavy. The field is threaded through for the new harvest, overwintered. The lambs, cloud-woollen, bounce over orange soil to find a new water, frost-hardy. Some were quick-footed. Some came back later, others … Continue reading 2 Poems