Fire and life, fire and life, night is day and day is night. Ritual traced, rites observed, gifts to the kith of the other world, eat an...

My sister is our executrix, what a fancy appellation. Presumably, there will soon be a suitable replacement. Still we hear the terms landl...

No more double Irish, we're big on moral ground. So modern now, and stylish, our book-keeping is sound. Our Revenue Commissioners w...

Sundays then were slow, the sounds were ritual. Mikey at the radio, Nell starting the soup. We wake with sore heads and secrets solemnly s...

The iris opened wide that day, her plaited petals freed. The lilacs had declined to stay, the lupins gone to seed. She looked 'round f...

At the end of the rains we took our places seemingly irreverent to the near sacred act of being outside for pleasure. The children, kneel...

When my frogs were leaving, I thought it no big deal, they're only frogs and even then they weren't real. No croaking noises in ...

Stamping feet and gleaming buttons, standing neat for bugle summons. Medals, badges, flags displayed when Ireland celebrates her brave. ...

The corvids screech and tear, there's war in the skies and fear in the air. The sparrowhawk flies, a bolt from the blue, a carrion ...

Is it too much to expect that they will all play fair, the newly chosen elect select, together in daycare? Made safe from strangers, their...