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Joy, by Britta Benson

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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