sunlight - Heaney

there was

a sunlit absence.

water

honeyed in the slung buket

and the

sun stood like a griddle cooling against the wall o each long afternoon.

her hands

scuffled over the bakeboard,

now she

dusts the board with a goose’s wing, now sits broad lapped with whitened nails and measling shins:

again,

the scone rising to the tick of two clocks.

and here

is love like a tinsmith’s scoop sunk past its gleam in meal- bin.