Inis Oírr iii
when the ferry gets in
island folks line up along the dock
offering tours in the family car
faces eroded by the rain.
horses wait hitched to carriages.
every hour another eruption
of bright coloured rain jackets
spills from the pier,
climbs the hill to the old castle
chatter ringing like church bells
into quiet air, blowing
like gulls away on the next boat.