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