The pale light
of the northern sun
shimmers on the
blinding white sand

within sight
not within sound
the dark brown shape

Tumble-down walls
snake over its moors
Gable ends
stand out against the sky

Like a dog
left outside the door
the island
lies just off the mainland

Whose lofty peaks
jagged along
the northern skyline
a barrier too

For one years was there
continuous habitation
Create a community
they said

But St Taran's isle soon
lay alone again
off the bright sands
of West Harris

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