Tír na nÓg

I saw Tír na nÓg  
For the first time 
Yesterday. 

From the car, before Thurles,
While driving on the M8.

All the plants, 
All the trees faced it, 
Pulled to it. 

I felt the pull myself. 
The draw.

And the island? 
A mossy green copse, 
Saturated in spring green. 

On this bright day, 
A wisp of mist hung 

There. Around. 
The rounded island 
Otherworldly. 

Ah, the longing. 
The longing for it lingers.

This poem was first published on the Poethead blog.