After spending the early part of my life near the River Lech, I swam over to Ireland, but missed my river. So I looked for the closest thing and found the River Lee, on whose banks I now live with my American husband, Irish-American-German daughter, and no pets. (Unless you want to count the rooks wheeling down from the tree tops when we scatter handfuls of stale bread.)

When not misfeeding birds, I work in the bowels of academia, where I read and write many characters per day.

When I do neither, nor run errands, drive the mum taxi, cook, clean, coax or cajole, or do a million other mundane things which encroach on my head space, I sometimes attempt the odd poem.

If you are patient, you might even catch one.

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