like dandi-lions dotting the walled pastures.
Slab stone flat pavement glistening in salt spray,
their toes tickled by delicate blossoms, seeds blown from across the wind.
Guinness chocolate foam licking the lips of repeeated melodies
of flute, concertina, guitar
toes tapping, stepping to time.
The language sings to the wind swept bushes
nothing could be greener.
Burren looking to Fanore
Cliffs of Moher
Rocky coast
pasture
