After Mary Oliver I made these islands.I made the bonxie, and the ewe.I made the grey seal.This grey seal, I mean – the one who has hauled flipper and blubber out of the water,the one who is rock-bathing in the voe, who is biding time, taking rest – who is gazing out at orca fins […]
A Winter Day, Shetland by Louise Burke Morris Read More »
Da Shaetlan Wye A’m niver lost me sense o Nort. N by NE,whaar I wance stood a’da lichthoose dat would beamhame i’da winter, whaaridder fokk ir tint demsels i’da Roost,me beacon o licht i’da galewhaanda auld foghorn didn’a waarn. Twenty year on,A’m still learnin da name o geos,sea caves an taings,da taste o’da hedder berries
Island Games Our ancestors might have encouraged ghosts from empty islands to take part in an endless range of sports. Certain they would never fall or slip, St Kildans would practice their high jumps by leaping from the steep heights of each cliff. There were souls from Ille de la Manche who skipped between some
Island Games by Donald S Murray Read More »