on rocky screes above the tree-line where
Slieve Donard reaches down to rampant waves,
I can relax. I know that I am home
wrapped up within the riddle of your rocks,
my ears attuned to rhythms of the Earth
I stroll again the strands of northern shores,
that seamless join of dunes and sand and sea.
With long deep breaths inhale the spray of surf,
speak softly, though not likely to be heard
except perhaps by seagulls soaring free.
You seduce me with shimmer from your sands,
coil me in the caresses of your curves,
cocoon me in cathedrals of your caves.