No More.
Under a sky blue as herons\' eggs,
low tide washing pebbles and feet on the slide
he shored his small vessel.
High herring gulls wheeling loudly
shrieked a goodbye as he made his way over
land\'s tussocky towans.
Looking around he cast a keen
eye along coastline, noticed a woman and pup
having fun on the beach.
And as he sampled new freedom
away from the white finger pointing skyward
he felt no more a keeper.
Now automated every Lighthouse
had no human need yet who by instinct when
storms hit would likely peer out ?
Who could in gales see shades
of anger when Long-rock turned from murky
grey to a dark purple rage ?
When the ocean\'s great heave
made passage round humpback so dangerous
while its eye promised evil.
Then boats caught in understroke\'s
horror might fight but breaking in two would
toss overboard fearful folk.
What now he wondered would
happen to those in the ink of black sea during
battle of wind against wood.
The last Lighthouse keeper
felt a tear fall although having been told that
he could now sleep easy.
But would he ?