winter mornings


 winter mornings start eartly

                at the crack of dawn,   like a postage stamp about to go the 'wrong' way wrongheaded about

  the time of day or night, and rememebering those wrong or right, and there is a g od a goddess

  right here of the nowaday world in the personafictations of I I and I  and you cannot rip that off,



In the South West of Ireland, this is more the case, as for the telling of riddles in the old cove, or the votive candle brushing the wind
                            with its flicker of light,
                        the tale of  numerous prayers across the sea,
                                       the bedding down of roses,
                                                     and the,