I still have not found four words that I am happy might describe me.
I regularly think of the Turf Cutter and The Swashbuckler.
Yesterday, at Castlehaven New Cemetery, I read and my mind quickly ran off to a song that has been prominent on my brain for many months now – Bee’s Wing by Richard Thompson, or Christy Moore.
I left humming.
I drove on with admiration for the rough slate headstone; jealous of the life lived by Denise Madeline Malone; and, wondering if there is time to convert to being a ‘Free Spirit’.
“She was a rare thing fine as a bee’s wing
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