Lighting the Lamp
I light a small lamp in the room of memory, recalling places we touched, the knowing in your eyes and the honesty, always the honesty.
November 24, 2011
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I light a small lamp in the room of memory, recalling places we touched, the knowing in your eyes and the honesty, always the honesty.
If I remember you it’s only in the morning, recalling root and water before the rush, paused like a web of lace curtain lifted in
The incoming tide is raised by a northerly breeze in flares of white across the spreading channel, the water muted gray like autumn’s sky. Descent
The spreading sea and rolling hills are far away, the sweeping curves of river Boyne beneath the ancient mounds of Knowth. Kin to the wet