Mavis Gulliver: Two poems

Far North

We reach Seil’s north-east tip,
stand by the cleft
that lets the ocean through,
mainland Argyll
a river width
away.

A windless day
when slack tide holds
its breath,
seaweeds rest,
small fish leap,
leave tiny splashes –
rings that widen
fade.

Herons stand knee deep
or rise protesting,
settle in the trees,
or land
on ancient waste banks,
lose themselves
as grey-black plumage
merges
with grey slate.

Midwinter Sun

Walk south
along Seil’s coast to Cuan Sound
and shield your eyes

for low sun turns all water into gold,
to shimmering light
that dazzles, dazzles.

Sea between islands, rock pools,
turning waves, marshy hollows,
dew damp scraps of slate,

dripping cliffs, small waterfalls,
burns that thread the hill land to the sea,
each one reflects and magnifies the light.

And wigeon, when they rise
send showers of twinkling droplets
from their wings.

Copyright © Mavis Gulliver 2014

Mavis Gulliver is a poet living on the Isle of Islay. The two poems are from ‘Slate Voices – Islands of Netherlorn’ due to be published by Cinnamon  Press in May 2014

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About sunnydunny

Poet, publisher, gardener
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2 Responses to Mavis Gulliver: Two poems

  1. Reblogged this on blissinacupofsugar's Blog and commented:
    Love! “Marshy hollows”

  2. Mike says:

    A delightful double of descriptive poetic eloquence. Greatly enjoyed thank you.

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