White Roofs Morning

"Sloe Gin
The clear weather of juniper
darkened into winter.
She fed gin to sloes
and sealed the glass container.

When I unscrewed it
I smelt the disturbed
tart stillness of a bush
rising from the pantry.

When I poured it
it had a cutting edge
and flamed
like Betelgeuse

I drink to you
in smoke-mirled, blue-black, polished sloes, bitter
and dependable. "
Seamus Heaney