Seamus HEANEY was born in 1939 in Mossbawn, Co. Derry to Margaret & Patrick Heaney, the eldest of nine children. Here are two poignant verses that he wrote in memory of his mother (M.K.H. 1911-1984). When all the others were away at Mass I was all hers as we peeled potatoes. They broke the silence, let fall one by one Like solder weeping off the soldering iron: Cold comforts set between us, things to share Gleaming in a bucket of clean water. And again let fall. Little pleasant splashes >From each other's work would bring us to our senses. So while the parish priest at her bedside Went hammer and tongs at the prayers for the dying And some were responding and some crying I remembered her head bent towards my head, Her breath in mine, our fluent dipping knives -- Never closer the whole rest of our lives. ---- The cool that came off the sheets just off the line Made me think the damp must still be in them But when I took my corners of the linen And pulled against her, first straight down the hem And then diagonally, then flapped and shook The fabric like a sail in a cross-wind, They made a dried-out undulating thwack. So we'd stretch and fold and end up hand to hand For a split second as if nothing had happened For nothing had that had not always happened Beforehand, day by day, just touch and go, Coming close again by holding back In moves where I was X and she was 0 Inscribed in sheets she'd sewn from ripped-out flour sacks. -- Seamus Heaney, from "Clearances"