Crossings -xxxii
Running water never disappointed.
Crossing water always favored something.
Stepping stones were stations of the soul.
A kesh could mean the track some called a causey
Raised above the wetness of the bog.
Or the causey where it bridged old drains and streams.
It steadies me to tell these things. Also
I cannot mention keshes or the ford
Without my father’s shape appearing to me
On a path toward sunset, eyeing spades and clothes
That turfcutters stowed perhaps or souls cast off
Before they crossed the log that spans the burn.
by Seamus Heaney
from Seeing Things
The Noonday Press 1991