Trying hard on a GAA pitch, house-hunting and airport farewells... For Sunday Miscellany on RTÉ Radio 1, listen to three poems, by Mícheál McCann above.
To my memory, I was always on a Gaelic pitch in autumn,
the trees low and big brown mounds of leaves.
A spectrum of brown thrown in the air by balls skimming the tops like a scalping razor...
Listen to more from Sunday Miscellany here.
