The Island Poem by Joseph Enright

The Island



Craggy rocks,
Windsweot fields,
An island bereft of trees,
Crashing waves, blowing sand,
A beautiful, barren land.

Gulls soaring, catching wind,
Floating lazily on outstretched wings
Winter chill from the east
Water drifting from the beach.

Seaweed lying on the ground,
Shells scattered all around,
In the distance a heron stands,
Master of his watery land.

Oer the bay comes the sound,
Trawlers going to fishing grounds,
Choppy waters, white topped waves,
Fishermen at sea for days.

On this island beach I stand,
Surveying this beautiful land,
Thinking of people gone before
Time for home, I depart for home..,

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