BOG COTTON

(It hangs there by a thread, denser than thistledown,

Reluctant to fly, a weather vane that traces

The flow of cloud shadow over monotonous bog -

And useless too, though it might well bring to mind

The plumpness of pillows, the staunching of wounds,

Rags torn from a petticoat and soaked in water

And tied to the bushes around some holy well

As though to make a hospital of the landscape -

Cures and medicines as far as the horizon

Which nobody harvests except with the eye.)

Michael Longley

(b.1939)

BOG COTTON

(Two middle verses of a four verse poem contrasting the 'poppies'

of war with the bog cotton of healing and reconciliation)

2006