Sweet Spanish Chestnuts

He kept them
wrapped up in a handkerchief,
as prized as a pocket watch
against his breast.

Seas swelled and wind whipped the Armada
tossing it about until it became waterlogged, broken. Sunken
off the Irish coast, the sailor’s body was washed up
near Ballygalley, villagers swaddled him tight
as an Egyptian mummy and buried him with the locals.

Five Hundred years on
an enormous chestnut tree crouches over
the headstones, keeping watch on all the dead souls.