Back To Inch Beach

Looking across the narrow bay

From Cromane;

On a clear day 

I can see a stretch of road 

Running beneath green fields

Etched from the slopes

Of Slieve Mish.


Cars on the road

Leading to Inch Beach and beyond

Glisten in the sun like beacons

Guiding my mind

Towards Foley’s pub -

A sleepy place,

Roused by a wave

Of visitors each Summer

Eager for the chat

And thirsty for more.


Further on,

Past the church,

And hidden from view,

A mountain stream

Begins to slow

And pool between the rocks,

Making beds for trout

As they rest before the tide.

A field nearby,

Once used by folk from far and wide

And their fad for horse drawn caravans

Now hosts a tented village


Then on to Inch beach,

Its beauty versed 

And framed by the eye,

Where sand and sun 

And wind and surf arise

To pleasure, awe 

And soothe the seekers soul.