The Orkney Islands

The Orkney Islands; mystic, bleak and bold,
Ancient lands from times of old,
Hidden away, like treasured gold.
In the frozen northern seas.

The birds perch high on broken cliffs,
A-watching stones and monoliths.
And sandstone hills entrenched in myth,
Are flecked with shrubs and trees.

A painful sun attempts to fly,
Rays burst through the greying sky,
Boats drift and glide on waves so high,
In search of lonely quays.

A mother waits inside her home,
A father sits beside his phone.
A farmer lives out his life alone,
And time no longer flees.

Hark! The wind doth blow!
It whips the sea and sand, it
Rips straight through the rock and land;
The elements here are in command.
In the frozen northern seas.

This poem is also available on Medium.