Creative Writing Ink April 2020 Competition Winner

Machair

Tomos Dargie

 

We came to a meadow by where the sea crept in,

where her breath was light with marram

and the meadowsweet danced.

There was an Island, left on a shell-strewn

strand once the tide had ebbed away.

There were terns, their shrill cry she carried

down the long summer days.

She brushed aside the long sweet grass and

sang along the pebbled stream, its waters

cool and clear and pure.

She whipped our eyes with salt and grit,

her white horses hoofbeats bitter and then,

once we understood her,

she gave to us her soul.

So few we are but blessed.