Lovely . Thanks. A deeply meditative piece that captures your thoughts as
they wander over the scene. Arthur.
----- Original Message -----
From: "Dewar Colin [FVPC]" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Friday, December 13, 2002 12:10 PM
Subject: newsub(Islands)


> From This Island
>
>
> From this island the shale-grey sea
> is the same sea that appears
>
> from that island over there:
> whale-black by shade of cloud
>
> or by evening light a bar of gold
> level on windless water.
>
> It is the same sea I gaze upon here
> with my knees in a swamp of sphagnum
>
> where the bog slumps down.
> Sulphuric bubbles make space for my feet
>
> till they bump stone like the bones of a rotten beast.
> On this island arctic air
>
> cramps my hands as they rest
> rheumatic on sodden wood.
>
> Clegs strike and assail my bare shoulder.
> Rooted like a wind-bent tree I stare
>
> at reflections on the altering water:
> the volcanic vent of the sun
>
> under ice-cap moon in salty blue.
> On this island bracken scratches my thighs as I move on.
>
> I come through forest where spruce prickles
> and drips dampen cloth.
>
> The rain falls like freezing glass.
> I walk till I come to the cliff and can go no further,
>
> marooned on this island.
> The face I bear to the slanting light
>
> is a different face
> from the seal's face that stares back with calm black eyes
>
> from its weight-bearing home.
> This island is not the same as that island over there
>
> where the slim pharos flares and gulls
> line the through-draft on their island,
>
> nor the same where stags roar over the sound
> from their shore of sand,
>
> who by night dine on globe flowers and the leaves of tangy sorrel.
> This island is not the same
>
> as that island
> where I would dwell if I could
>
> to gaze on the sea
> as it shifts from shale to jade green;
>
> the same sea
> that finds its way thus far inland
>
> and surrounds with its inlets,
> fingering their way into awareness
>
> and invading my darkest dreams with silver light,
> taunting with warmth drained from the sun
>
> that I cannot meet with my skin nor teeth bite.
> This island has its own history and cannot be other than it is.
>
> Its berries are bitter
> even as I encounter
>
> on looking out
> an intractable delight.
>
> ______________________________________