I was working on this poem on the computer when my daughter said: “Look, the waterfall we went to is on the telly.” It’s not somewhere you would usually see on TV, so it was quite a coincidence. I think it was a show about walking trails in rural Ireland

At Eas a’Ranca on a Summer Evening

Water thunders down
hundreds of feet
of frothing white
through jagged cleft
of timeworn rock.

In a quiet corner
where the ripples go
silence reigns,
the boisterous waterfall
a fading backdrop.

Past the daisies
and unfurled ferns
a lapping stream
leaves the pool
while a silver trout
leaps.

©Siobhán McNamara