The Green of the Isle
The wind comes from the west, boldly humming his tale of weathered old cottages staring onto the glassy surface of the cold Atlantic sea...
What if we stopped
What if we stopped wedging ourselves into tight small minded spaces which don’t fit our shape at all What if we stopped adjusting our...
Ode to Kerry
Dark clouds hang on the light sunk sky as if they wanted to tell the almost unbearable gleaming of the horizon to straighten up and...