I dream of sheep and the Outer Hebrides,
fields furrowed with linen lines and feral life:
pubs and people, a zig-zag across.
On coastal dunes, marram grasses grow
wild and tall as they’d ever want in this country
of scotch moss and croft, resting place
of the hour hand.
Here, the soils are sand and the sails billow by bluffs.
The only way to the waterfront is over God-gracing
rocks, Lewisian gneiss, its sediments of quartz
and feldspar scattered along the shoreline, glittering
up to the reed buntings and bluetits.
Daniel McGee is a triplet, poet, and film enthusiast from the Chicagoland area. He is currently an MA student at the University of Illinois–Chicago. He has been published in literary journals such as Wales Haiku Journal and CP Quarterly, and he has work forthcoming in the Minnow Literary Magazine.
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