(Asyetuntitled)
Opening my i-book’s i
To some notional horizon
I scan the distant gesture of a wave
Well, telescope my inbox, a message!
Tapped into existence
With a breath of the deep North still about it
In cold delight
Warm words, written softly
Mirrorwater, a view across the sound
Houses shouldering snow
But this an image reconvened
As flatness on a screen
No windsong
No lap
Or rolling peals of sky
No ‘away’
Only distant admiration, envy
And another tap at the door
Clinton's ode to Shetland
