BORDERLANDS
I am here, in the North, this windy day
Sensing the potential of an ancient story
Across grey water, out toward the East
An island, more of a line on the horizon
Old buildings, now a low dark silhouette
With its history to tell, for those to hear
A new scene greets me as I lift my gaze
Puffy white clouds both large and small
Like mothers followed by little children
Low, as if one could reach up to touch
Moving with breezes in the atmosphere
Stretching across the cool pale blue sky
Sagely nodding as if a heavenly witness
Are these skies, that looked sadly down
On battles, to and fro across the border
Yet now, albeit having played their part
Seem both remembered and reconciled
In September’s reluctantly cold sunshine