Poem: Orkney
- wallacejnichols
- Sept. 21, 2006
I’ve heard the fire sing
In her soft rain.
And I’ve seen the foam
Dance in her hardest wind.
Damp wool, the scent
Rotting soil
Salt.
I find the highland everywhere
And from my nightpost
Await her call.
Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow.
So I wait through the night
Again.
