Tino Cassoni was the best baker of bread in our town. His Irish soda bread was superb. Ah, how I loved to eat it warm, with butter melting on it. But his was a hard life….
On January 2, 2011,
in Greystones, prose,
by Small Town Poet
Her father was a Rotweiller. Fortunately she takes after her placid mother, a black retriever. Though I have yet to see Diva retrieve anything unless it is food.
On July 7, 2010,
in Environment, Greystones,
by Small Town Poet
The old stone-cut cornices of our Carnegie Library have been painted orange, portico and gutters two shades of green; otherwise not much of the exterior has changed. Inside, all is changed, utterly.
On one day each year we
makeover, paint our faces
wear funny hats
and indiscreetly
relax completely