Red plumes of dust behind my rolling wheels
are torn aloft by ever whipping winds.
In each field a leaning barn will lurk
behind a skirt of rippling grass.
Black rag crows flung between plowed furrows
caw then soar, now bank and dive
behind the tractor's wobbly wheels to
compete with gulls blown in from briny shores.
Red roof, white church, and crumbling homestead
with crooked mailbox and lupin ditch,
nestle under azure skies where great
eagles circle, beady eyes on land.
From a high green hill my eye can spy
the silver thread curving on blue sea;
a mooring rope lest this isle should float
beyond the pull of land and drift free.
Steel piles driven deep into bedrock
carry life and limb and cherished hearts,
over swirling white-capped waves, to these
home shores where time's footfalls gently press.
15 August 2014
Prince Edward Island
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4 comments:
Rich and dense and worth reading and again and again. I can see and hear and feel it all!
Great stuff! Thanks so much. I am trying to convey an authentic Island flavour. I hope it shows how much I have absorbed.
Great reading your beautiful word again. You really did capture the mood and environment where you live. It's hard to believe it's been eight years!
Thanks Elena, some of PEI life has definitely rubbed off on me. Eight years indeed!
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