Yon island, gray-shadowed, calls in the mist,
Defines far horizon’s long ocean reach.
In sky, heavy silver-lined clouds, drooping, list
O’er rippled waves seeking home on the beach.
The boom of the waves, the call of the sea,
Black raven’s brisk hop, eagle’s lofty sway,
Red splash of wild berry, dune’s sandy lea,
On the gray-green ground of a rain-splattered day.
Chill windy hours on a long lonely shore,
Wild joyous freedom, wonder, beauty, all.
Alone, not lonesome, with nature I soar,
Drawn in, heart open, to Creator’s call.
Far island, lone shoreline, and rich tidal fen,
Mystery, deep longing, you call me again.
Norma J Hill