Fields by Brian McClorry, SJ

By Brain McClorry, SJ ©

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Half awake in infancy

The names around me,

Quite inexplicably,

Were of fields -

Petersfield, Froxfield,

Hampshire fields

Where the cows grazed

That came for milking,

And in the barn

A cat whose scratch

Drew parallel lines

Of blood down my thigh

With many tears but no pain.

The day after

Father in naval uniform

Held me looking through

The window at the rain:

Do you like to watch

The rain he asked.

So I considered

And said, yes.

Thinking it was expected

That I did.