Weather glorious now, wild flowers bursting up and out, magically. You name it, it’s there. What a joy to be in the Burren at this time of year….
Pignut and primrose.
An Rath banks, a symphony.
Planted by fairies.
Still cool, not to say cold, and the grass hasn’t really grown yet; the sheep on the rough mountain look hungry. And blow-dried!
Heads down hungrily,
eight sheep, giant, furred puffballs,
bright among dark reeds.
Saw a red squirrel in the woods today, even got a photo! Go fada buan sibh! It’s glorious how they move, they don’t run, they flow, even up the sheer trunks of pines, who’s faded, last-year colours they match perfectly…
Like a wind-blown leaf,
copper-bronze of fallen pines,
billowing up trees.
Idir na ceatheanna, na cosáin mearthriomaithe, conair chasta mhoilisc ag glioscarnach mar Jackson Pollack leath-dhéanta!
‘caisirnínigh thar na leaca,
drúichtín ag tarraing.