The Sacred Tree – na Bílí – is where I made my home, called by a voice unknown. I pay my respects from a distance, content to wait. And trees have time to kill. My life has been… Read More
For the robin, no perch here.
Across the field
mournful cattle low.
Too cold, the dark end of the year.
Soft hues of Eire
earth-brown, grass-green, sky-blue,
overcome by stark monochrome.