A wee poem I have been working on following a trip to Islay. Uncharacteristically optimistic and upbeat by my usual standards I thought… call it an antidote to a really crap day.

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The horizon rises rust and golden

There is mild steel in the sky

But the curl of the sea still smiles at me

This light falls kind upon the eye

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A cold north wind unfurls these coat-flags

Slapping like a laugh at the side of your face

Peat smoke clouds my watered eye

Our ship lies soft in harbour embrace