I mean to retire, where nobody will have heard about my special skills. And conversation is mainly about the weather. — Eilean Ni Chuilleanain Copy Share Image
“When she came to the finger-post She turned right and walked as far as the mountains. Patches of snow lay under the thorny bush That was blue with sloes. She filled her pockets. The sloes piled into the hollows of her skirt. The sunset wind blew cold against her belly And light shrank between the branches While her hands raked… — Eiléan Ní Chuilleanáin Copy Share
I mean to retire, where nobody will have heard about my special skills. And conversation is mainly about the weather. — Eilean Ni Chuilleanain Copy Share Image
“ When you look out across the fields And you both see the same star Pitching its tent on the point of the steeple… — Eiléan Ní Chuilleanáin Copy Share Image
