Weathering the day

Liquid sunshine,
any of you that have ever lived in Oregon understand.
We stopped in a little village on a fjord,
the only one in Ireland,
mist hanging low and mysterious
around the bald green mountains
and we had Irish coffees and Baileys with hot chocolate
at 10am.
Apparently this means we’re officially becoming Irish.
Hundreds of miles have been crossed,
every mile, every minute an exploration and discovery,
but every second one closer to home…
wherever that might be.


Author: Monica

punk rock ballerina. writer. adventurer.

2 thoughts on “Weathering the day”

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