the level lifts all

boats and swimming birds

but the rocks jut out

tooth-jagged clustering

into island masses

still the sea’s stage 

surges quakes and spits 

or rolls out unfurling

sands and shells stranded

our dry-lands’ bright fringe

caves and the raw cliff

from my cell’s door

back to crofting lands

look forth to the winding

sail-blotted highway

out between the crags

insinuate their journey

distant tracks of world

here the seal-weed washes

otter pebbles crunch

above ocean breathing

I hear Him sing the better

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