A rusty gate
from the sandy dunes
A wall of stone
on all four sides
A rock-strewn hillside
inside
The sea incessantly
speaks from the shore
Strange
no rocks
outside the walls
just flower-clad sands
Rolling away
in every direction
down to the ocean
their ancient roadway
Living from the bounty
of the ever-present sea
it would exact its price
giving change - wreckage on the shore
Living in penury
but happily
demure hamlets
strung out to the north
Poor ground prompted
a move inland for summer
gathering fuel
before the storms came
Unknown were the riches
in money and goods
Riches in happiness and
the strength of kinship
Only a rock
remains within walls
a mark of ending
to remember their days
Nine thousand you'll find
on that rock-strewn hillside
No carved tombstone
Just a rock
