A mischievous little ekphrastic poem I made based on The Druidess by Odilon Redon. Comments and concrit are always welcome. Please enjoy!


The druidess startles

when her mentor mutters,

For feck's sake, and plucks

a Brigit's cross out of his coat pocket.


RTE One is on the telly,

paints them on a special interest

story with the Faughart shrine

just up the road.


She strides past her mentor

into the backyard.

Six masked figures stand

around the patio table,

heads tilted over their mobiles.

Hi, Mrs. Nolan.

Hi, ya.


Dusk stretches over Dundalk

from the Irish sea. She shivers

under her robe and waits

for the archdruid to bring

his wife's scented jar candles.


A single lick of light clings

to its wick while the first

flecks of daffodils rise with the smoke

between one eavestrough

and the next.