South From Norton’s

I’m at home of the harp,
you know, and would
you believe it,
sandpipers are playing.

Sounds of the sea are
coming in, in waves,
there’s moss, wild thyme,
lichen, and gorse, soon.

Fluffed surf semaphores
from a jutty outy piece
of Ireland, where buoys,
and beach *****, bob.

Lions, but no sea dogs,
and drift woods loose
their barks on the cead
mile craggy’s of the \/\/\/\/


Zig zags are wild Atlantic way
The coast of Ireland