SHEELA-NA-GIG
by Robin Robertson
He has reached her island by stones
Pegged in swollen water,
Through rain that has fallen for days.
He touches the welling mouth, the split stone;
She shows him the opening folds
Where rainwater troubles and turns.
The rain slows, and stops; light deepens
at the lid of the lake, the water creased
by the head of an otter, body of a bird.
All Images available in High QualityMattedFCPost
by Robin Robertson
He has reached her island by stones
Pegged in swollen water,
Through rain that has fallen for days.
He touches the welling mouth, the split stone;
She shows him the opening folds
Where rainwater troubles and turns.
The rain slows, and stops; light deepens
at the lid of the lake, the water creased
by the head of an otter, body of a bird.
All Images available in High QualityMattedFCPost
