Balloon
By Brian Power

What child has never lost a prized balloon?
The balloon I remember is the one I lost
when leaving Santa Claus on Grafton Street.
I watched in disbelief that a thing so fair
could waltz away, regardless, from my grasp
to frolic, tantalising, above the stores.
A silken flush of blue in the evening sky –
I shouted for its return, but passion faded
in nascent understanding that all we cherish
must float aloft some day into the clouds
and that our noblest role is to applaud the flight.

On a Foggy Day
By Brian Power

Indolent waves
come crawling across
Sandymount Strand
in a greying light
then a blue island
fringed with pink
carves an oasis
in the leaden clouds
and awakens the wonder
which can tear grief asunder.