Neatly I trace out
the amber leaves,
Half way from
Roscommon to Ballinasloe,
to the right lies ballyforan
to the left, brideswell,
I scoop them up
into the white paper
and roll and think
of rolling hills
Far away in
Wicklow or Mayo,
I strick a match
and blow out blue smoke,
I think of poitin makers
on Connemara hills.
paddy d daly
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/rolling-tobacco-on-a-road-map/
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