Island Corrie

Curving back by the northern cliffs, where a pale scar shows that another slice of mountain has succumbed to this century’s hard seas and grey storms, we halt at a rim, and, far below us, in June sunlight, blows the big, elongated O of Lough Bunnafreva, ringed, in this summer’s long drought, with a necklace of bleached schist. Cupped palm of Croaghaun, gift of a glacier, silver doubloon of Achill.

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