Browse

Here is the smell of seafood pie
A broken tower on the open sky
A chain of islands rolling west
In sight of the house where we are guests

A rambling old river twists 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 floor
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

ADVERTISING

Don't forget to LIKE us on Facebook!