Excerpt

an excerpt from Mointeach - a Novel I sporadically work on from time to time

It had begun to snow again.  Dreamily I watched the flakes, silver and dark, blowing obliquely against the lonely crossroads streetlight.  The time had come for me to set out on my journey westward.  Yes, the newscasts were right: snow was general all over the island.  It was falling on every part of the dark central lake of the Bras D’Orr, on the forested hills, falling softly upon the Burnt Barrens and, farther eastward softly falling into the dark mutinous Atlantic waves.  It was falling, too, upon every part of the lonely graveyard on the hill above the river where Stephen’s clay lay buried.  It lay thickly drifted over the crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns, smoothly blanketing the newly mounded grave.  My soul swooned slowly as I heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead – dimly falling into that good night.  

and apologies for briefly modifying that good bard Joyce in this one paragraph