On Skye<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Hard to know the right madness here\u2014
\nSkye\u2019s hills have the twisted pine scent
\nof Montana, the air of Coyote\u2019s<\/p>\n
bitter-bright games\u2014but here the road
\ncrosses the bridge where Macleod
\nsaid goodbye to his faery wife<\/p>\n
and leads to the ruins of Trumpan Church
\nwhere Clan Macdonald was burned alive
\nby Clan Macleod. The crofts crumple<\/p>\n
like abandoned ranches, houses and barns
\nfolding in on themselves, stones falling
\none by one. Here it was not hard weather<\/p>\n
that emptied the fields but the Clearances:
\nthe landlords and everywhere their sheep.
\nStacks and hills and emptiness. Stones<\/p>\n
rearing to the sky: churches and brochs
\nbending stone by stone nearer the grasses,
\ncastles full of nettles and sheep, weeds<\/p>\n
growing right to the sea, and everywhere,
\non church walls, sea rocks, corners
\nof the castle windows, a strange green fern,<\/p>\n
bright with brownish stems, everywhere
\nspringing from the cracks in stone.
\nI dreamt a dog whose hair was these<\/p>\n
ferns, thick, rich, alive. Looking at her
\nI saw how the stones love this land,
\nhow the rain and wind and tides love stone,<\/p>\n
how the grass does, how the woman who once lived
\nin the fallen croft shaped scones
\nfrom flour and sang while her children\u2014<\/p>\n
who grew to leave for the New World\u2014
\nwoke to the sure rhythm of her work
\nand the haunting lilt of a piper’s tune<\/p>\n
reeling in the righteous wind.
\nAll this, with my fingers woven
\ninto fronds on her back, moving from the cool<\/p>\n
green growth to the warmth that rose
\nfrom her skin. And in the pause of flying home,
\nright at the Rockies\u2019 feet, there she is again:<\/p>\n
standing stiff in the wind as my plane
\ntouches down on the runway right by her.
\nA wolf on the tarmac, the blowing snow<\/p>\n
swirling around her feet like fog,
\nlike the cold and deep warmth
\nof her feral, human breath.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Neile Graham<\/a> is Canadian by birth, but has lived and worked in Seattle for over 22 years. She holds an MFA from the University of Montana, where she worked with Richard Hugo. Her work<\/a> has been published in many American, British, and Canadian journals, and she has three full-length collections of poetry, most recently, Blood Memory.\u00a0<\/em><\/a>and a CD recording, She Says: Poems Selected and New<\/a>.<\/em> Her writing projects have been supported by the Canada Council, Artist Trust, and the Seattle, King County, and Washington State arts commissions.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" On Skye Hard to know the right madness here\u2014 Skye\u2019s hills have the twisted pine scent of Montana, the air of Coyote\u2019s bitter-bright games\u2014but here the road crosses the bridge where Macleod said goodbye to his faery wife and … Continue reading