Dark line on horizon distant,
Headlands oft mist obscured,
By ferry I’m leaving home for
Mainland working, two weeks
I must remain. Not by choice but
Family needs, well-paying island
Jobs too few, especially during
Winter months when tourists
Retreat to warmer climes. Yes,
Only stout hearts endure island
Life, born and raised, it’s in our
Blood, struggled birth on cloud-
Streaked storming days prepared
Us for seagoing life of toil.
Thanks for reading.