Fay Slimm.

Back There

 

 

Back There.

 

Oh for those hills of my homeland
greening their fall
to the sea, oh for rainbow\'s sheen 
topping flat waters of
sandy coves, dreams from abroad
hear calling of gulls
hungry for catching bounty\'s haul
and they, like me 
scream for another small helping  
of lost hospitality.

 
Oh how I yearn for each morning\'s 
wake to cooler breezes,  
where coastline old granite boasts     
as sentinel and valleys
hide familiar hold on open doors
for returners who 
remember the features of kin-folk


Oh to chase high-tide  
breaking as white-beach rollers 
be nightly tucked in
by motherland air and then rest
in that kindly fold 
of its ample breasted welcome.


Oh to be back there once more.