My grandmother rarely went farther
than the yard, tending her hens, but
I’d have followed her anywhere.
Every morning she poured fresh water
and ladled corn into the dented tin dish,
adding handfuls of seeds and grit.
From a gap in the galvanised roof
sun lit the lines on her face.
She’d let me reach into nest boxes
to grasp warm eggs, then slip them
into her cardigan pockets. She chased
the cantankerous cockerel away
and warned, Watch out for men
who fancy themselves. At the kitchen table
we’d divvy up the eggs, roll
the surplus in melted lard and salt
and stow them in the scullery,
like pullets roosting on a high shelf.
© Jane Clarke, commissioned for the Festival in a Van and Poetry Ireland Words Move Tour, 2021
Picture 13130526, photograph by Heilman, 1960s, image copyright Mary Evans / Classic Stock
Jane Clarke is the acclaimed author of two poetry collections, The River and When the Tree Falls (Bloodaxe Books 2015 and 2019), and an illustrated chapbook, All the Way Home (Smith|Doorstop 2019). She grew up on a farm in Co. Roscommon and now lives with her wife in Glenmalure, Co. Wicklow. Her work explores enduring connections to people, place and nature. Jane’s awards include the 2016 Hennessy Literary Award for Poetry and the 2016 Listowel Writers’ Week Poem of the Year. She is working on her third collection and combines writing with teaching and mentoring creative writing. www.janeclarkepoetry.ie
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