Sunset 16.44. Beltane fires in January. 18.13, 4.05m high tide. Kilheran shores. Walking back in darkness. Skies torched, aflame. Of an older, resonant time. When ancient signs, symbols & auguries, held fast the promise of the year. Flat calm on the water. 8 degrees out. Stretched out to the buoy, & back. Fingers aching, biting cold. Longing for 3mm C-skin neoprene hand mitts. Heart glowing. Fire in the dark. Saw the shape of an orange beast. Burning through willow. A pyre, of dead wood, all of the olden year. My Daily Raw Swim, Cold Running Tides.