Sunday – the empty square
the locked bar

three fishing boats
tethered at the pier

a portacabin bank
open once a week

an empty road
between level barley-fields

fulmar on its nest
in the ruins of a church

a meadow of yellow iris
where sheep and gravestones sleep

shimmer of marram
under the midsummer sky

curlew rolling its name
purely purely over the silence

a long walk on a ridge of sand
between back-to-back bays

the cairn’s open eye
looks east across the sea

This was written on the island of Sanday in Orkney. It was published in the anthology ‘The Listening Walk’, 2013.