Rolling hills and cliffs and castles,
land of sea and green,
leprechauns, fairies, and tales of yesterday,
of how everything you once knew is gone.

Eternal moment of time.
Ireland calls us home.
Thinning the veil.
The freedom of being thousands of miles from one's self.

Lost in my thoughts as the petunias try to climb out of their bed,
expanse of ground to experience,
wildness encroaching.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2019

Coffee and Classical Concert in a Cathedral

Coffee and classical concert in a cathedral;
I don't know how it could be more perfect:
connection with the earth and Russian iconography.

Mixture of tourists and locals,
goat herder at the next table with eyes of blue,
a feast of music.

Harpsichord playing d'Anglebert.
Three herdy-gerdys, like the troubadours of old,
to accompany Hildegard of Bingen's
Gregorian chants and the sun opening through stained-glass windows,
and singing straight from heaven,
and a permanent smile on my lips,
and thirteen more minutes of music,
La Folia, 13 variations.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2019


The harmonica sings a mournful tune as the sea goes out and the rock's blossoms sway in the breeze.
The stone stands firm against the waves;
it has taken a million years for her to yield to their power.
Tourists return with the tide,
but I linger for one more sad song.

If these seas were to open up and swallow me,
let it be known,
at this moment,
I am content.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2019

Americans Overflowing an Irish Bar

Americans overflowing an Irish bar on InisOirr, Dolly Parton's "I Will Always Love You" playing the background. Chicken curry lunch; differently spiced version of Irish stew.

Under a cloudy Irish sky,
I sit beneath the Irish flag,
coffee, and, now,
Celtic music in the air.
I am warm inside and out.
I savor the floor tile, mismatched wooden tables, and lilting song;
I savor the sea air and warmth on the tongue;
I savor the brogue on the ears and the smile on the lips of fellow pilgrims.

Irish pub life - always dark and warm,
soft and loud, at home among strangers,
a passing through permanence.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2019

In Galway on Quay Street

In Galway on Quay Street,
no tables for one,
but traveling alone is liberating.
It's a good thing I enjoy my own company.

Smile is a universal language,
not always friendly.

You can tell they cater to Americans,
always ice in the water.

Young man at next table - expatriate -
red hair and American accent -
entertaining his grandparents on their "first trip to Ireland."

Nina Simone in the background.

The freedom of being thousands of miles from one's self.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2019

Warm Wood and Candles

Warm wood and candles flicker,
savory smells and dishes clink.
Overflowing flower baskets.
White earthenware pitcher of water on the table,
Italian wine.
American accents surround me.
Yet, I am liberated from customs and expectations.
The freeing flow of anonymity and difference.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2019

Purity of the Body

The purity of the body --
settles like a soft spring rain.
Her boundaries are gentle.

Green grass on rolling hills,
ivy-colored stone walls.
Grazing sheep.
Misty rain.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2019