The vision came quite suddenly,
Some Febr’ries ago,
And showed to me, quite handsomely,
A place I did not know.
Amid an orchard’s sleeping wood,
Its fruit upon the ground,
A man and woman, talking, stood,
But making little sound.
I did not know, as I eavesdrop’d
And strained to understand,
My erstwhile path through life had stop’d,
To wander a new land.
The orchard story held me fast:
Unwitting did I write,
While weeks, then months and years had pass’d
In dreams not of the night.
Their tale told, the couple’s plight
Fills pages now well-worn,
And now my waking dreams alight
’Pon times ere they were born.
And so Hibernian fires have spread
B’yond time, and also space,
And they who know the smoke have said,
’Ware! ’Tis the Author’s place!
©2014 by Christine Plouvier