“I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself. A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough without ever having felt sorry for itself.” ― D.H. Lawrence

https://rinephilbinart.com/places/fanad-lighthouse-donegal-wild-atlantic-way

Wild is the minute and clear is the day
a world of smell and sight and sound,
the portals of discovery all around.
I enter this world, this newfoundland:
notice the sheer vividness of colour,
the all round visibility of sound,
synaesthesia rises from miasmic ground.

Flesh and blood, all the half-created
epiphanies of cloud and sky and sun,
enter the mind and fly from the eye -
into the mackerel sky, clouds rush by.
I grasp these perceptions, cling to the day,
instress the texture, and wild is the way.

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