Sat 29 Mar…

 

the day sang quietly to itself

neither strident nor pathetic

but in contemplatives tones

that watched gauzed sunlight

waltz with waves of air and sea

.

evening pulls a shawl around the island

covering naked rock between weave

of grass and heather before the

chill of night can frost a grip

.

the night flows in on eastern air

whose tune skerries across the Sound

from finger-hole lights of Strond

 

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