Lorraine Whelan


Lorraine Whelan

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Fog blows fast.

It spreads and falls away from the windshield,

sends a ghostly chill through the air vents.

I shiver and watch the translucent white

from the spectral night

on the other side of the glass.

Our arrival at the cottage is under heavy storm.


the smell of damp wood and urine,

the sound of heavy rain on a thin roof;

mosquitoes take shelter –

buzz loudly around our heads

as we huddle deeper into the warmth

of old, musty blankets.

By morning the rain is gone.


bathing under the sun,

small puddles vapourise in the yellow heat

and the air shimmers below a cobalt sky.

Cloudless. Blue.

At sunset

sticky sweat replaces blood in my veins.

A warm wind brushes my eye.

Splashes of pink streak cirrus whisps

and evening darkens the orange sky.

The bay is a whiteness at night.

Chatter is distant and muffled.

Boulders watch in silence

as black shadows wade.

I follow close behind

toeing sharp stones to reach

the wave-rippled sand.

Then nothing beneath my feet

I tread.

Bathing under the moon:

silver face aglow.

Sea of Serenity.

A crater moans.

The dark sky is pinholed by stars.

The water is still and noiseless.

Air is cool on my skin.

I swim.

Lorraine Whelan

I am a writer and painter based in Bray, Co. Wicklow. Most recently my writing has appeared online in Circa's "This Matters Now" series (Oct 2016 & Nov 2016). My limited edition handbound books of lino prints Good Morning/Maidgín Mhaigh/Buenos Dias were included in the curated section of the Dublin Art Book Fair (Nov 2016).