on walking around the headland of Bu Ness, Fair Isle, September 2018

fulmar shears across the wind
north haven seals head-bob
in the flood tide

gale gusts thrash the grass
sun patches slide and slip
across Ward Hill

I turn my back
to the wind and wait
for this autumn rain to pass

close-cropped grass
dusted with end of season thrift
memories of summer-pink

a meadow pipit flies
mastery in miniature
beneath the wind

I look to the horizon
gale blown light shifts
silver     grey       white

in the refuge of a rock cleft
wind rattles the pools
of this geo-in-the-making

west around the headland
my breath is sucked away
view to sheep craig

in the lee of the drystone wall
lichen stillness
as wind’s seething drifts through

sheltered on the south beach
sheep munch seaweed
to wave-tossed pebble-knock

fulmars race the gale north
as another squall blows in
I start to chill