three days in haiku

ben brun’s pub was grand
good food and company, too
i stepped in dog crap

awful, rip off lunch
mitigated by castle
backed by pink roses

unexpected find
at my namesake, mullin’s mill
summer festival

surrounded by sheep
kells priory ruin squats
waiting for the monks

injured sheep limps by
hoof curled unnaturally
bleats and eats and bleats

lovely inistigue
the circle of friends café
anglers cast their lures

high above cashel
surrounded by scaffolding
tourists march like ants

narrow spiral stairs
portcullis, cannons, moat
slippery stacked stones

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