May 2015

A big year for cuckoos, it seems, their calls everywhere…

Shadows unrolling.
Buttercups and daisies furl.
Cuckoo calls vespers.



Perfect early Summer days…

Warm scents rise like mist.
A cloud of birdsong descends.
A cuckoo calls noon.



Hot, sunny days, especially when out of that easterly…

Shadows sun themselves,
stretch, lazy, across the road;
get spotted by tar.



The weather this month has reverted to type, much more varied and ephemeral…

A day of rainbows;
sea and sky changing places;
clouds chase their shadows.



A sad day in Glenties and Doire na Loughan, saying goodbye – for now – to an old and dear friend…

In Derryloughan
larks and wrens combine in song.
Mourning the last oak.