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The Eye of Orkney
by Daniel North


On stony beaches
I walk the fiery sky
That manifests like freshly lit kerosene
Burning a pattern of inspiration
Of the natures beauty I have seen.

Watching the birds of the sea
By the shores of the convulsing waves
Slowly plucking during methodically prune
As the night begins to plummet
Into the ripped sapphires that glisten like dark runes.

In the distance I see the blazing shadow
Enlighten the crumpled face of the Old Man Of Hoy
As all the seals float by with fishing boats and buoys.

I then look across by hill top
Looking at the tiny houses and the cliffs
That remind me of giant whales of the land
A land steeped in history where my mind can drift.

Like being circled in the meditative rings
Such a spiritual power should embraced
Touching the bracken, a thousand stories could be told
As I feel emotional by the sheer calmness of the place.

I continue to walk around
Dumbfounded in the temples of Skara Brae
That have hieroglyphically safe guarded in history
As I hold my growing admiration for this Neolithic ground.

I run my hand through the firm heather
And marvel the gallant thistle roam free
As the fire dies bravely in the sky
To set stage to the traumatic eye of Orkney.


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