Just as I am getting ready to leave and take the bus home, I am writing a poem, that sums up my time spent on the Isle of Skye. A thank you poem.
Joy
I wander where wi-fi is not
and signal bars fade
into endless horizons.
When no one can reach me
blossoms in my soul
dare to start their unfurl,
first tentatively,
stretching,
a wiggle of reconnaissance,
then bursting into flames of colours
not even the rain can harm
for there is no tomorrow.
Today I am my own ray of sunlight
in solitary places.
The air smells of honey,
warm and electric,
the power of now.
Here.
Britta Benson
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