The isle of memories

Once more
my glance
is to the

Closer tho'
than to
the empire
of stone

The wandering island
which time and tide
made to wander east
until not long ago

The empire of sand
hold fast by grass
and by sighing firs
not long time there

Where the military
practice their
deadly trade
on the sandy cornfield

Where the birds fly
and from
each equinox

The isle of the river
as the ancient Romans
called it once
a long time ago

First five of us
now but four
visit the
isle of memories

Green horizons

My horizon
is clad in green
and birds flutter
to rear their young

of many colours
surround me
in this warmer spring

Time has marched on
even since wintertime
since I crossed
the two grey seas

Another sea
I shall yet cross
before I once more
wing my way northwest

Sandwick Cemetery

A stone
An obelisk
A keyless lock

Who remembers
the names
the people
their story

The clouds
The sun
The rain
The storms

Pass by

Names fading
As do the memories
of those they recall

Boats taking people
Away from the island
Coming in briefly
Or staying for eternity