Archive of poems by Anne Kelly

All day long
they worked on the well,
my father and his stone-mason cousin.

Slowly, the dome roof took shape
as the water gurgled up
for the infilling of the well.

"Time to go!" Mick said,
but my father, absorbed indeed,
found a large flat stone,
for people to kneel on
and drink in comfort.

To his cousin's amazement
and bemused impatience
my father then took a sharp, white stone
and cut out in fine letters
the words 'Drink and Rejoice!'

I passed by that well today-
its solid, decayed structure
no longer in use-
I heard the laughter and footsteps
of a people on their way
to the boley village of Sliabh Mor.
I felt the bright invitation
of my father's message,
DRINK AND REJOICE.

by Anne Kelly

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