The Wee House of Malin
18th April 2017
Beneath the cavernous sanctuary of a Celtic saint naked celebrations of springtime waves washed the ancients clean.
The sea-thrifted rock braves the wind and taunts the waves that have made this sacred coast precious with cherished stones.
Ciaran Burke
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The road rambles into the decline,
One way to go, nowhere else to be.
The fresh water hurries to meet the sand, to wash with it to the sea.
Golden stretch in stone green embrace beneath a blanket of grey,
Torn to reveal a flash of blue,
and a golden promise behind the hill.
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