Powerscourt Gardens and Waterfall, Powerscourt Estate, County Wicklow, Ireland
We set out from Summerhill
to cross the road—to finally cross
this from the list: to make our way up
the long lane to the esteemed estate, this
strange place, strange
in that we’d heard so much
but never seen its face.
Our nearest neighbor.
She’d crossed the sea to see me after all.
She’d come to Enniskerry and I wanted my wife-to-be
to be impressed. So: Powerscourt
it was. And out we went. Onward. Upward.
And even if we hadn’t—
hadn’t made it here, hadn’t even set forth—
the name alone would exist, and impress. The mere
look and sound of it. All that it suggests.
The walk was long but led to all
we’d longed for: the sweet view of Sugarloaf,
the coast’s greatest mountain; but also
wonders of lower grandeur: water
falling, water unfaltering,
water lilies, their pads on the ponds,
their purple-pinks and pinkish-whites
beneath a shocking spread of sky
blocked only in spots by palm fronds.
[Powerscourt in Bloom, page 2, new stanza]
Mist and moss affixed
to statues and rocks alike.
and far more garden.
Stick to the stone path. See
petals in a fountain.
But then, just like that,
the sun was considering the moon,
letting it take its turn. We too felt
we might be done for the day.
All of this would still be here tomorrow—
the blooming earth
like young love’s wandering mind.
By: Jeff , Country: West Virginia, USA