GOLD OF THE GAEL: FOR MY GRANDPARENTS

They seemed to cherish silence - each at either side of the hearth,

never breaking breath  -  even the kettle spluttered  its Gaelic, but not them  -

gold of the Gael was this silence.

When silence came to cherish them nothing changed: at each of their wakes, they lay by their own side of the hearth; he as though he had just come in from scything;

she as though she had just finished making crowdie  -  nothing more.

What is eternal, is the silence,

out from it another kettle splutters  -  in English.

empty glens

stone and wind

lamenting                                                           note: crowdie: cottage cheese