Dark Island

The squat cottage
shoulders the elements
shrugs-off the weeds
growing against its sloping sides.

Deep window ledges
four-and-a-half-feet of
protection against the outside
frame uncurtained glass dark at night.

We had a storm the other night
and it remained unmoved -
only the ill-fitting modern
UPVC gave gaps

to the air, hooting as the
wind rose and fell.

Alternately silver and black
as the sun moves in and out
the only other colours are blue
green and aquamarine, white

dark island reflecting
changeful skies
cold Atlantic blasts
influx of tourists, curious

at its jewel-like quality
so far out
come and walk, take-in
lungfuls of sky and rock.

Bleak causeway
blasted from the hill
bought with raw scarring
joins the colour

to watchful silence and layers of thought
beneath the surface of the day
waving dark and quiet
like the heaving of kelp in the bay.

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