“what shimmers is the ordinary of the disquiet”

What’s spared are the images of the early consciousness— a landscape is stripped to its signs— the sudden idea is the source of faith—things appear as their possible selves— first impressions are a set of beliefs—a glimmer of light is a way of life— everything happens in a private place— all is determined in an instant—at the same time nothing is fixed—

don’t think there is more

than the shiver of grass

through the low field

on a particular summer’s day

a word

so private

a Sunday parlour

couldn’t say it

into itself

suddenly across the silence

of the evening countryside

a sheep cries out

from an unseen field

like the whole point

of the pointless

the way moonlight

nicks a kerb

like a street caught in the act

of its memory

Una Woods was born and raised in Belfast where she now lives. Her earliest memories are of the darkly imposing three storey terraced houses, the black factory smoke and the interweaving streets where she joined the other children in their seasonal games.

In contrast to this the other pivotal point of early awakenings was the soft green countryside of County Down where she, her brothers and cousins had the freedom of the fields and roads around their grandmother's house where all the school holidays were spent.