BORDERLANDS

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