Loughros (Donegal), 20 juillet 2000.

In front of us there is a cliff looking out on the dark ocean
where a strange pointed bolder thrusts upward into the sky.
At its edge, just to the right,
a fragile wooden cross is planted in the ground
next to which a bouquet of flowers has begun to wither.
The cowherd, a man on a tractor, the shepherd and his son,
all go out of their way in order to approach the cross
in an act of reverence;
as if dumbfounded or in virtual disbelief
in the face of something which has recently happened.