Here is the smell

of seafood pie

a broken tower

on the open sky

a chain of slands

rolling West

in sight of the house

where we are guests



A rambling old river

twist through the fields

ancient names

imprinted on shields

gifts arrive

for a baby girl

born a queen

at the end of the world



Furious music

from an open door

the sound of feet

beating on a stone flood

always the wind

always the form

of an elder God

hooved and horned



The head of the mountain

lost in a cloud

a country woman

soft and proud

into the bay

the horses swirl

for we come to the sea

at the end of the world