This is my archipelago: my home and my paradise. This is my wish, prayer, desire and blessing that it can ever be haven to me. These are my islands.
The island hangs suspended
Between the breasts of the ocean.
The ribbed mists mingle with the sea,
Falling away from the island
In the aweful folds
And harmonic symmetry
Of a blessing-white wedding gown.
The warm island glows,
A contoured gem of the cerulean seas
And queen of the white horses
As they gallop along the crests of the billowing waves.
A mighty tornado of screeching gulls wheels,
Feathers scintillating in the rushing air.
A thousand warm white bodies ride
On a powdery perfume of mowed grass and pink granite.
Rocky fortresses tower tiny and tender,
Awash with white sweetnesses and surf-sudded tufts.
The glistening gold of the sunstar
Complements viridescence and cerulescence
Akin, as triplets’ smiles.
Silvered dews sparkle in lucent leas,
Roads wind through vales and across runnels,
And down to the fair estuaries where marinas seem still
With bygone visions imprinted in the dust
And here, in the land of the aester,
Where drifting dreams can be caught and adored
And mystic rhapsodies glide without curiosity or restraint.