The wagtail skitters across
stone, not needing attention.
It won’t beg. Nor the rook. The
ferry, on time, rocks small boats
at anchor. Over there, in
Martyrs Bay, Vikings left the
isle dead to tide. The coal
boat, years later, dumped its black
ton on the sand. Lines of men
and women in their coats hauled
a winter’s worth of fire home.
First Postcard from Iona by Richard Robbins | Lemon Poetry Reed Diffuser
$15.00Price
Richard Robbins was raised in California and Montana, taught for many years in Minnesota, and recently moved back west to Oregon. Lynx House Press recently published his seventh book, The Oratory of All Souls.
