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Tuesday Poem: P.J. Kavanagh - And Light Fading

It's like a de Chirico drawing.  The sun going,
A boy on a big grey horse with his bare ankles showing,
A little boy below exclaiming at the hunter's huge feet:
Eyes of saffron heifers reflecting yellow light,
Anxious, standing back from the yard gate:
Garish among the ochre fallows
And high bare field with scooped lavender shadows
A green surprising triangle of winter wheat.

The lane winds up and long.  Winter hedgerows
Burn, lemon-green and coral, trap a black bag or sack that blows
Sometimes in a wind above the lane.
Boys and big grey horse and fields and man:
Black plastic like a broken  bird, flapping, cracking:
Coloured lane climbing away, and turning, narrowing, and light fading.

Copyright P.J. Kavanagh
 Collected Poems, Carcanet Press 1995


It could be a picture of an Irish landscape - and indeed there is an Irish poet called Patrick Kavanagh and an Irish film called The Fading Light directed by another Irishman called Kavanagh. 

P.J. Kavanagh was English, but of Irish …

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