I keep coming back to a particular poem which is playing over and over in my mind. I hope you like it as much as I do:


Caring is loving, motionless,

An interval of more or less

Between the stress and the distress.


After the present falls the past,

After the festival, the fast.

Always the deepest is the last.


This is the circle we must trace,

Not spiralled outward, but a space

Returning to its starting place.


Centre of all we mourn and bless,

Centre of calm, beyond excess,

Who cares for caring, has caress.

(F.R. Scott 1899-1985)


Kiss ~ Gatherings from Ireland # 169

Garrarus Beach, Co. Waterford



‘Kiss ’til later,’ you send.
Can later be forever,
a kiss
without an end?

Kiss like waves greet the sand
as the
stretches towards waiting land.

Kiss like the sun on scorching
warming the soil
through nature’s haze.

Kiss like the wind
within our wood,
caressing fresh leaves
and each tiny bud.

Kiss like the moon, young and fresh,
crescent shaped
and inviting a

Kiss like the blazing fire of gorse
defying each season –
stream defining its course.

(Jean Tubridy)