Bermuda Islands' Visitor

I have no idea

How I happened to be on the cliffs

Of a North Shore park that day.

Perhaps a bolt from the busy shop

On my trusty moped

With a thermos of tea and a sandwich,

Needing rocks and waves for sanity.

Nobody else was there.

Sun and sea were mine.

When I chucked my waste into the bin

I glanced up.

Islanders look at the sky a lot.

There's so much of it!


A huge, dark bird, wings like a giant scythe,

Was flying overhead.

It spiralled upwards in perfect circles

Riding air currents

With unerring centre point.

I was struck by its beauty, its power.

Up and up it soared, smaller and smaller

Until - just a dot - it vanished.

And I breathed again.


That evening the weatherman said,

'A frigate bird was spotted at Spittal Pond today.

A rare sight indeed.

Apparently, it 'touched down' from its ocean flight.

Nobody quite knows why.'

He beamed from the screen, pleased with his story.

I covered a smile with my fingers

And whispered into my palm,

'Ahhhh. I know why.'

◄ From My Window There Is A Tree

Let Us Praise Rainbows ►


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Fri 15th Nov 2019 15:45

Really a feel good poem - the sort of open sharing quality that personifies your work, and hits the spot for me. Thanks for sharing Cynthia.


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Fri 15th Nov 2019 12:14

This is really enjoyable Cynthia, I know those magic moments of solitude well. And heard "Needing rocks and waves for sanity" very loudly. Loved the ending too.

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Cynthia Buell Thomas

Fri 15th Nov 2019 11:15

Once you have lived on a small island in a vast ocean for years, you never escape the clear understanding of the insignificant at the mercy of the mighty, in whatever context.

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