It was Doolin.
The sky was grey.
It was more than surf that crashed high that day.
It was might.
It was a sight to bring a soul to humble watching.
The winds wild.
I was a child framing fragments with a camera.
On another day.
The sun was shining.
The waters hardly moved.
Slúcan was harvesting on the rocks.
And walking felt I a soft warm breeze.
The blue of sky.
The warmth of sun.
Horthorn naked in the fields.
Then echoes of a winter night.
A thistle, still frosted.
A crystal prince endowed in white, sparkling light.
The tranquility of that day.
What could I say!
An inward voice prayed a thankful thanks.
Then a quote of note came into my head, said -
' What is this life if, full of care
we have no time to stand and stare?
No time to stand beneath the bows
to stare as long as sheep or cows.'
Quote. William Henry Davies.
Slúcan. Winter seaweed.
Doolan is on the Atlantic coast of Co. Clare, Ireland
Doolan
1985 ©