Winged Victory

After picking up the wean I persuaded him to come on another drive up Killiney Hill with Lola. He said he knew a 'short cut', which I recognised as a path off the main tarmac path, with a lovely tree-root staircase. These woods are really wonderful at this time of year, rich with that greeny undersea light and little clouds of bluebells here and there.

When we reached the top, he headed straight for his little plinth, which commands a broad enough view of the horizon to make the Earth's curvature just about detectable. We kept Lola on a lead as there were plenty of dog-distractions everywhere, especially other dogs, and if she bolted off we'd have a tough time finding her in the woods. A quick loop around Richard Murphy's 'Folly' before heading back to the car. Here's the voice he gave to it:

'My form is epicene: male when the gold
Seed of the sun comes melting through my skin
Of old grey stucco: female when the mould
Of moon­light makes my witch-pap cone obscene.'

I always thought 'obscene' was a bit strong, but of course it's the folly talking (and who knows what follies think, besides Murphy?).