By Toklas  blee@direct.ca
Date: 16 September 1999

Singing to Siwash

You left me by inches, like the waves and the rain
that cut Siwash Rock from the cliffs to the shore.
Such bleakness, worn weary by the wind
telling mournful tales into your secret nooks.

A seagull perches just there, cleaning its feathers,
looks to the sky, and flies suddenly into the merciless spray.
Seaweed clusters around your base in little tangled skirts
like lover's clothing hastily discarded.

Your towering side's hint of sleeping tortured limbs
--Of lost whisperings fading into the cooling air.
How passionately the waves scatter,
weeping wildly over your scarred  and dreary face.

Standing in broken majesty and faltering song,
Waiting by inches for the sea and the wind,
While the tide steals empty garments from the shore,
And gulls fly overhead.