In the early afternoon, a fine rain falls
To three clocks ticking, not one of them on time.
Outside, the wet road goes nowhere but Cootehill.
One local pilgrim, after years of longing,
Finally made it to Lourdes. Asked how he found
It, he said he took the Castleblayney road.
Towns and the names of towns, wet roads going nowhere
But Cootehill, the way to Lourdes through Castleblayney,
If a friend coughs up the money for the fare.
Otherwise we are left with rainy weather,
More salutary, sure, than no weather at all.
To give me leave to remember you clearly
Miss Annie McGinn of Newbliss delivers
A dark pint slow and silent as the island rain.