the youngest farmer

 

the lambs are in the fields

the youngest farmer rubs hands

chapped like dry leaves

in a life that never ends

you will not find his tale

in any tract of  erudition

but in the dull trochaic verses of the bible

is found the course of his living

he stands and does not hear

the echo from Mount Zion

resound through Cnoc An Oirthir

by the shores of old Kilcullen

and perhaps it's for the best

it would plaque him at his rest