Planting crocus bulbs,

Preoccupied with Eden,

Preparing for Spring.

Le Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh,

Dé Máirt, an an cúigú lá is fiche de mhí Lúnasa,

an bhliain dhá mhíle is fiche a sé (25/8/2026)

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Where the river stops breathing,
Where the ice keeps strange names,
I stand between «was» and «will be»,
I am silence.

The snow doesn't remember,
The fire doesn't warm,
The raven is silent at my hand,
I close what doesn't dare
To leave.

Let go
Of what no longer breathes.
Burn
What keeps you in darkness.
I am not death.
I am the end that is heard.
I am the winter,
That goes ...

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The Rite

of Spring,

of Summer,

of Autumn,

of Winter,

Sacrificial victims,

Their innocence,

Beauty and Life

destroyed to appease

their God of War,

Elbit Rules OK!

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Springwatch came from Crom

for the final time tonight:

Great Skuas, thieving.

Le Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh,

Déardaoin an t-aonú lá déag de mhí an Mheitimh,

an bhliain dhá mhíle is fiche a sé.

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https://youtu.be/aoejvFMDWT4

National Trust Crom,

Spring watches Summer dress up,

and she wears it well.

Le Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh,

Dé Máirt, an naoú lá de mhí an Mheitimh,

an bhliain dhá mhíle is fiche a sé.

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Half a dozen swallows

celebrate another safe return 

above the solar panels 

The drone of bees, of microlights,

and motorbikes haring

towards the hills 

Daffodils lose their glow

as early spring fades 

camellias shed crimson tears 

Lilies of the valley

glint like lost pearls

A rook seizes old leaves

in its seen-it-all beak 

and flaps back 

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