swinging at her mooring the Albatross sits out the squall rain driving down the loch its crew ready to launch the tender to greet dry land At last ! (said *****)
XXXIV
Reading Ransome (before sleep takes over) celebrates this northern clime Diver or no Diver preoccupied **** leaves the shore party to find adventure above the secret cove where Captain Flint and the scrubbers make the Sea Bear fit for Old Mac . . . but I am seduced (until she comes to bed) with Ms Jamie’s Sabbath Day on Collinsay finding nothing more necessary to write than Sea, Birds, Wind
XXXX
Yesterday it rained all day so the museum beckoned and we became enthralled by the artefacts of daily life, images of times within the memory - just. The things of living mostly at home and further from the world we know and somehow cope with stand testament to a way of life now passed now gone. Between bench and stove, dresser and wheel, the chest and personal things, their short distances collect in memory.
XXXV
sky blue clouds grey and white hills green and brown and purple rocks grey and black sea green and turquoise tide brown sand khaki all the colours come together on this afternoon beach where the tide rising dogs the footstep
These poems are part of a collection of forty-five written during July and August 2016. Thirty-six of these poems were written in the Outer Hebrides on the islands of North and South Uist, and on Eriskay. They are site-specific, written on-the-fly en plain air. They sit alongside drawings made in a pocket-size notebook; a response to what I’ve seen rather than what I’ve thought about or reflected upon. Some tell miniature stories that stretch things seen a little further - with imagination’s miracle. They take a line of looking for a walk in words.