sitting beside
this deep dark weir
now shallowed by an autumn drought
I wonder on a thousand feet that
crossed this cressed and turbulent flow
for centuries now gone
from Dodder bank to Dodder bank
and mountain marche to Liffey low
my people poured
from bog white tops
to green and sylvan meadows

but they
meander now
quiet
weary
content
as deep
into the setting sun
a golden dog
swims
the pool
beneath
I search
the waters meaning
where meeting waters
go