In memory of Pearse Hutchinson, 1927-2012

Coming over Portobello Bridge
I think of you swaying on the upper deck
of the bus, your boyhood perched there
high above St Mary's playing fields,
the surprise of a poem in your pocket,
the stretch of the long road behind you –
now swimming pools, coffee shops, Umi –
Dublin's mountains beyond snow-cold,
watching you rise over the canal,
your stomach flipping up to your heart
that swells at the thought of the city ahead.

Up and over, then down Aungier Street,
And through the breath-fogged windows
of that upper deck, you know that this is life –
that excitement waits for you, your seat creaks
as you stand, balance on a slate grey aisle,
holding tight to a yellow pole until it's time.
Then the stairs twist you down,
you are pushed out onto the pavement –
early morning crowds, a cavalcade of cyclists
to escort you, the traffic lights change
to green. The day says, Go!

Enda Wyley’s latest collection is New and Selected Poems (Dedalus Press)