in a green place

the wedding of pauline and paul on aran island

anecdotage

Driving into the front garden this evening.
I step from the car and look around.
"Where are you Robin?" I call.
A little ball of fluff flutters from the hedge into the pavane tree.
"You'll have to come out so I can be sure it's you if you want me to make a story out of it," I tell him.
Robin flies onto the lawn and begins tugging at something in the grass.
His red breast isn't the typical robin red breast. It's more russet.
He exudes the aura of a robin who is well pleased with himself.
I am fascinated that he would come when I call.
God has put wondrous consolations in the creation.

apologia pro cuddles mea

Italian Luisella showed me this photo over coffee in the Stephens Green Centre.
I was briefly transported.
For a moment the mighty Heelers could only make cooing sounds.
She told me that her father breeds the rabbits in the garden of the family home at Bricherasio.
"What does he do with them?" I asked still entranced. "Does he sell them?"
"No," said Luisella matter of factly. "We eat them."

wisdom

"Who would you vote for in the French elections?" quoth I to the Mammy this evening as we sat in front of the television.
"I'd vote for the girl," replied the aged parent.
"Why?" sez I.
"Because she's a girl," explained the Mammy without hesitation.

stephens green

lesser spotted yobs
spreadeagle on the lawn
a long tied businessman
whoops into his phone
golden breasted secretaries
cluster round the fountain
preening at their feathers
and cackling with abandon
whilst an elephantine matron
trumpets for her young
and a herd of student sexalopes
gambol in the sun
each creature happy
in its cacaphonic fate
save a lone wolfen poet
hunting for a mate