Edenlike as your name
this sea’s edge garden
where we rest, beneath
the clarity of a lighthouse.
To fly into risk,
attempt the dream,
cast off, as we have done,
requires true luck
who know ourselves
blessed to have found
between this harbour’s arms
a sheltering home
where the vast
tides of the Atlantic
lift to caress
rose-coloured rocks.
So fate relents.
Hushed and calm,
safe and secret,
on the edge is best.
The Great Cloak (1978)