NeuroDivine

Waiting on a haircut, tea on the tray, pen in hand—and “Half the Parish” found its way onto the page. ☕✍️

There’s something about the hum of a café and the simple coming and going of people that turns into poetry if you sit long enough.

Firecastle, Kildare.

Simple time well spent.

Half the parish 

Chatter all day long
Hiss of a kettle too
A scone, a cake, a treat, 
Sure half the parish wanders through. 

Steam curls in the warm air 
Crumbs from a well-worn plate 
A laugh that fills a room
And stories shared by all till late. 

Footsteps come through the door 
Coats soaking from the rain 
A chair scrapes across the tiles
And Father starts the tale again. 

Simple time, coffee drunk, 
Nothing too grand to do 
Just company and time
And hearts at ease in every brew. 

The great Cathedral stands 
Beside the market square
Within her ancient stone 
She watches all who gather here.