Rocks of Ages was captured using a wide angle lens in Doolin, on the Wild Atlantic Way on the west coast of Eire. Doolin is the traditional music capital of Ireland, gateway to the Cliffs of Moher, the Burren and Aran Islands and a perfect touring base for County Clare.
Rocks of Ages
Dead dinosaur, baked lava bread,
or magnified, some viral cells;
the details of this image spread
bring metaphors to mind then print.
Some echoes, shadows, Banksy wall,
a picture speaks, our story called,
strange prompt against dementia’s thrall,
or mystery, encore, unfolds.
Was this a north-face greenwood tree,
cork cambium to ring the change
of years when globe renewed with breath,
flow xylem binding earth to sky?
Claw down the bark, tree creepers route,
but blues suggest this log afloat,
for nightmare dawned, lopped climate’s root,
marooned, now lonely comfort zone.
My cortex senses skulls about,
but that tells of my coasting thoughts,
the brainwaves fearing whalebone spout
and scrimshaw teeth piled graveside site.
Abused, the rocks of ages stand
to pass the land, regenerate;
despite the folly humankind
the rainbow arches after storm.
© Stephen Kingsnorth 2020