Orkney Isles
By Susan Alexander

It's off to the Orkney Isles
To the land of sheep and cows
Where the colors of green are as varied as you've seen
And the rocks make the fences and houses

And the water's both fresh and salt
And the white swans swim in both
The oatfields sway to the wind and the fray
And the farmers all have boats.

But away on the moor with the bog and the peat
In the purple of the heather and the clover
Are the standing stones where the veil is thin
And spirits help the souls to cross over

There's mystery in the cairns, the silent rock cells
In darkness, in bones and in breath
Where initiates aligned with the sun and the moon
And performed rituals of birth and death

The layered cliffs frame a turquoise sea
With the clouds, cold wind and the rain
Where bitterns fly and silkies sigh
As they watch where the waves hit the main-land

Ancient villages, early homes,
Hidden under peat and sand
Midden heaps declared those places where
The Neolithic houses did stand.

Beds and dressers with pottery bits
And necklaces made of bones
Storage spaces and hidden shelves
And central hearths made these little homes.

They were living in tune with the sun and the moon
With the weather and earth and rock,
Lunar standstills, winter solstice
And the patterns of lines they could walk.

What can we learn when we study their ways
With mysteries we can only surmise?
To be more aware of the land and the seas
And the heavenly litghts in the skies.

To each find our own peace when facing a change
In life or death's physical part
To be willing to open to knowledge that's old
In our journeys, our dreams and our hearts.