Rocks, wind, first skiff of snow, treeless
Plain, windowless cottage, no doors,
Crofter’s abandoned lifetimes, meager
Hopes, memories lost on desolate
Shores. To my childhood home I have
Returned, older woman, re-established
Life on isolated isles. Dipper and bucket,
Quick jaunt to clear-running streams,
Splashes on my face, arms, spring water
I drank again. “Why here?” I am asked,
As if moon-marooned. “Where I grew up,”
I replied. “Islander within my bones.”
More water sips, accent returned, years
Buried, speaking, hearing myself anew.
Thanks for reading.