A Connemara Pastoral
I. Dawn
The green door opened before the sun had fully committed itself to the day, and Moss was through it in the same breath, as though the door and the dog were parts of a...
Sharing Grief
The fire in the front room burned hot and steady, throwing its colour halfway across the worn pattern of the rug before the cold reasserted itself near the window. Snow had been fallin...
Sand, Stone, Tide
The tide had not yet decided to come for it, and so the castle stood, for now, with the particular dignity of a thing that does not know its hour.
Maire had built it the way she...