Traigh Mhor

Miles of long strand
stretch under the
lowly, green-clad dunes
south from the river

A jagged line of teeth
denote the mountains
on the distant mainland
beyond the cold water

Higher the dunes rise
steeply from the sand
Houses now appear
beyond their yellow crests

Looking north
from their final place of rest
the markers of the dead
espy the cape of turning

Men of the sea
at rest near the shore
not just here
elsewhere too

The strand closes
where lives lie closed
the only way is up
not just for the living

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