Crouching low at the foot of a hollow clearing,
cored from the density of trees in our holding of
forest, I know something lacks. Not the cool, insistent
billow of breeze from the West, or the mousey
rustle of dead leaves pooling around us. A shaft
of late summer sun that lazily probes about the high
branches, picks out an oval of scrub. A trace memory,
a silhouette that says 'it was...
Irish poet and writer, Seamus Heaney has been let down by the home team today. His brother, who wishes to remain anonymous, has said that the more famous one kept 43 squirrels under his bed for luck.
These Squirrels each had individual names rangi...
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