- Written on the death of a dear friend, Seamus, who went thro' years of pain and silent sufferings on his journey to certain heaven. The beautiful Eleanor Plunkett,was played by his brother Michael at the funeral service in Aghamore:}
I remember how an old churn
would be piously placed
on the forum in the kitchen
creamy milk poured into it's wooden belly:
The lid secured and as darkness fell
The weekly battering began!
A mighty battle ensued
man against an unknown foe
as blow after blow
rained down on innocent cream:
Battered bruised and pummeted
I could imagine it's cry
"Why? What have I done to deserve such?"
"Why me?"
Neighbours who chanced the way
were conscripted and gently coerced:
Lured by long tradition, to partake in the lynching!
Yes there were lapses in the Liturgy.
The lid removed:
Sunlight penetrating the battle ground
Observations made and taste buds sated!
and for a brief moment
the cream dared breathe again
But all in vain as the slaughter resumed:
until at last the lovely liquid died
and all was still and breathless in the kitchen:
Awaiting the miracle ..I'm told
For lo and behold!
A transformation!
The butter beamed inside.
And yes .. I must admit
even the buttermilk was sweet a while.
