(to William)

Lazy, lazy Sunday afternoon
a room with a backyard view
a midday seagull would land
on the sill of my sash-window

Curious and grateful for fatty food
and many a dice of white bread
from the refectorium of McCrea
sandstone facade, red bricks behind

Lazy, lazy Sunday afternoon
rainy weather, Atlantic winds
got up, up from my bed-couch
ready for a cross country walk

Put on a scratchy Donegal sweater
and off I went, lonely as a cloud
when all of a sudden, unexpectedly
I saw on the top of a hill, a lump

Attracted, approaching, walking on
there it was, there it has been, there it is
a ring of stones built by ancient gods
enigmatic sun palace in the nowhere

I gazed – and gazed – but little thought
what wealth the sight to me has brought
Lough Foyle, Lough Swilly, eerie light
the waters‘ surface, skies so bright

And oft, when on my couch I lie
in vacant or in pensive mood
this sight comes to my inward eye
I yearn for where I lonely stood