Eamon

He drives out onto the peninsula

out onto and all along endless Inch Beach

for half a mile

in his rickety station wagon

Eamon

He parks the car on the solid crusty sand

between driftwood and broken shells

undresses slowly naked

and meets the Sea

Eamon is very old

a wild white wreath is left of his hair

he is tall but his skin stained, his legs tired

he wades out into the water and it begins

Eamon does not swim anymore

it is more like a dance

he wades out, it is a rendezvous now

with the Sea

and she swells up happily to meet him

every wave breaking and running up his chest

a merry embrace

The Sea is a wild lover

Eamon knows

all-embracing...devouring

but he comes every second day

and they dance and

she lifts him off his feet and chuckles

Eamon does this every second day

no matter what

since Mary has gone

She kisses his chest and lifts him up

wave upon wave oh

how often did he nearly dare

dare to say yes to marriage and let go

and take the Sea for his second wife

But Eamon would not

I'd love to call him Eamon ...

he wades back out the cold West-Kerry waters

he got married only once he swore

all naked, old and frail he might be but not foolish

He reaches for his towel and dresses slowly

slow and tedious and

twist-nods the head toward the hungry Sea

the way Irish men do

and drives back down Inch Beach

out of my life

To maybe get the paper and some scones at Roisin's shop

blimey

Roisin's fruit scones are the best