taste of summer
Only a few hours ago, it was all so different then…
If I could smell my end of term like drying kelp on the shore, now I can see and feel starlings feasting on it!
June went out with a bang… Light night, shetland-blue in colour, placid, peaceful.
July began with rain and fog. Yet the island feels mysterious and by some twist of cosmic proportion, blue filled our impetuous sky as school bell went. We rushed outside to the harbour in search of light, friendly faces and tasteful lunch :).
The island still harbours the world… If hamefarers made their way back to their place of birth, visitors wander through da street and Esplanade, always in search of adventures. Today Marco Polo anchored in Bressay Sound.
Too soon again, I’ll put back on my guiding cap and share treasures with explorers! 🙂
Others wander across oceans en solitaire to moor moments in one harbour…
Of all the flags found along bollards, I pictured this one at lunchtime. One day ago, Thurs 1 July, Canada celebrated a birthday. My heart does not forget dear friends from Atlantic or Pacific…
Talking of which…
Oh, wow, I found a bottle in the sea.
it spoke of shores,
my horizon can imagine…
and I, the raven follower, begin to dream;
Blueberry Field, Miscou Island,
Chignecto Bay, Bay of Fundy,
your Confederation bridge as a lifeline to Prince Edward and unity –
raven’s homeground, twin with my world…
East Point Lighthouse,
Ile Madame… I love this sudden switch of tongue!
au nom des lèvres du St Laurent
Now I feel home on either side of Atlantic.
Nat, 5 april/avril 2009
Der, I fin dee a’da shoormal,
wirds fae dy wirld ida bottle laek a hansel by da banks broo,
dey spaek o mony geos an taings,
laand oda corbie an da craa…
Noo let me tell dee o me side,
fae Muckle Flugga ta Foula,
a hundert islaand ida sang whar I feel hame
atween solan an Atlantik…
Fair Isle, Papa Stour, Muckle Roe.
Fae da mainlaand,
Eshaness, wir wastside –
Saint Magnus Bay
ta protect wis.
Dat brig o saand
ta Saint Ninian mair ta da sooth…
sky athoot da staars,
whar men still wirk ida paet banks,
an peerie fokk hide ahind stanes…
du micht even see a njuggle drink ida burn if du’sna fairt.
…I too switch tongues to please my heart,
my nordic home and Atlantic.
© Nat Hall 2009