There was a placelessness to it, which I liked best about it - the Way of the Cross. It somehow did not appear to belong any more than I did. With all of its winding bends of yew trees and rhododendrons, wild fuschias and brambles with glistening glossy blackberries, I could lose myself. I could … Continue reading Fáilte go Ros neamhlach (unfinished)
childhood
Blessed are the slow
Why, oh Lord, did you make me slow?Are there just some things I ought not to know?I guess even gardens need some time to grow . . .Why oh why did you make me slow? I guess it keeps my heart from stopping,so I don’t need no pills a popping,when I see nosy neighbours dropping … Continue reading Blessed are the slow
Dust
We watched you sweep the kitchen floor,when the notion to do so would occur.Your frustration cut to the core,with worn-out sighs and murmurs. Through grinded teeth, you bent your back.The job had to be done . . .And now and then a burdened breathwould push the drudgery on. Between the chairs and under the table,You … Continue reading Dust
Ardent Writing 