The grey stone gable
Is the last vestige
Of the cottage on the headland.
Nettles grow thick
At its lichen-covered feet.
It faces west
Toward the sunset,
Toward America.
Melissa Shaw-Smith
Writer
The grey stone gable
Is the last vestige
Of the cottage on the headland.
Nettles grow thick
At its lichen-covered feet.
It faces west
Toward the sunset,
Toward America.
Melissa Shaw-Smith 
Lovely. The westward drain of generations leaves such strangely beautiful scars.
So true. The scars of Irish emigration–past and present–are all over the landscape of the West of Ireland.
Nice! Feels like this poem really connected to me, in America. =)
Thank you. Glad the poem resonated with you.
Strong images. Thanks for stopping by Poemattic. Look forward to reading your blog. Great photos.
Thank you–glad you liked the photos.