christmas eve in ireland

An ancient stillness fills the house.
The ghosts of Grandad and Aunty Philo and my brother John are whispering on the stair.
A festooned Christmas tree glimmers in the hall.
The Dad drowses in an armchair.
Paddy Pup surreptitiously noses something on the kitchen table.
MC Hamster stands stock still in the centre of her cage.
The Mammy is wrapping presents in her room.
Outside the wind has died down and the garden is quiet.
Briefly Ireland's greatest living poet lays side his vexations and turns off the television to savour the moment.
The universe itself draws breath.