A remote Irish valley, where mountains are stark,
Boasts a castle in Glenveagh, a national park.
As expected, the site is imbued with the past,
But its beauty conceived with intentions to last.
In the gardens, the colors just burst from their blooms
As a challenge to hills where austerity looms
And those purples and oranges, yellows and reds,
Though quite joyous, seem ready to leap from their beds.
With their gates and gazebos, meandering trails
Encourage reflection, which naturally pales
Next to simple acceptance that fortune's bestowed
On the visitor, interest on debts life has owed.
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