Smithereens Press Chapbooks SP14 - The Lighthouses by Daragh Breen - Page 14

The constant wind is a ragged gown that trails mosses and lichens across the bare rock. Lone trees, like soft wax blown onto the wind and stiffened in an instant by the cold of the night in which they are formed, keen in the drizzle for their landscape. Narrow tombs of stone walls stretch their bones around the tiny fields. Out on the water, random light plays on the surface making a lure of it all. 10