The Voyager's Song

I see the shoreline,

black and unremarked

sleeping in secret, supine,

an open door, strong

as a broad Yorkshire

voice,

weak as rags of sea mist.

Soon I shall fetch upon its sands,

where cold silence reigns

uninvited like the early dawn.

Beside me shall burn,

in isolation and awe,

the last bright flower

of an ancient memory...

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This poem first suggested itself to me while looking at the magnificent mountain scenery of Interlaken in the Bernese Oberland of Switzerland. Beautifully dangerous!

A Mountain Cameo

Silvered by many alpine peaks, an orange sun

reflects, glass-like, off still dawn meltwaters,

a fireball inside a snow-white aural gleam

thrown carelessly into a child's rockpool.

Streaming no r...

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