A conversation, enquiry taken by the breeze.
Strip of shingle, shards of shells, stones in shivering pool.
Rods arrive, banter and call, comraderie and laughter
as wind shelters unfold.
Hooks on lines, grey waves hold bounty,
and hope waits on the sand.
Ciaran Burke
Cuan an Aisléim 1st November 2018 The ocean retreats and we descend brown water flows without resistance to where the cliffs welcome […]
Kilpatrick Beach, 20th May 2018 Stripes of white in black, red in wine, stains of pink and golden rings hiding treasures in […]
Stradbally Cove 7th August 2017 The river feeds silver and gold, passing gaping pirate caves. A seaweed line awaits the returning sea. […]
Whitestrand 23rd August 2017 A wall, a wall, no immigrants call, the waves erode the present to reveal the forest of the […]
