By Clifton J. Noble
The wind blows cold down Brandon.
The trees bow their heads to the mountain’s shoulder,
The rain slips in like a thief in the night,
And the mist folds ‘round ev’ry byre and boulder.
My dear and I lie safe and warm
Though the wrath of the gods howl o’er us.
We’re sheltered safe in Dingle Bay
With the best of life before us.
The wind blows sharp down Brandon.
The calves and the lambs turn their tails in defiance,
The fishermen pray for a calmer day
And the home fires smoke in leeward silence.
My dear and I watch the low’ring sky
And remember the trials we’ve lived through.
For now we’ll stay here in Dingle Bay
And draw warmth from the words, “I love you.”
The wind blows soft down Brandon.
It ruffles the fuchsia the hedge encloses.
The clouds have lifted – a holy gift,
And the sun caresses the pale beach roses.
My dear and I take it all in stride
As we stroll toward the distant islands.
With Dingle Bay sparkling on our way,
Wishing Ireland could be our land.
The wind is calm down Brandon.
The mist of mem’ry falls fast upon us.
We hold on tight to each precious sight
Though dimmed by time, they will ever haunt us.
My dear and I heave a mournful sigh
For our time in Dingle is nearly o’er.
We’ll find a way to return some day
To our paradise on the Kerry shore
Where the wind blows sweet down Brandon.