Stand
Back and forth, on the blustery jut
I rock my brain in its buoyant swell.
The tang of crowberries and storm clouds
sieved through wind and limestone,
sheep’s piss and heather.
Beneath my high rock, rock ravens spiral,
peregrine swoop; a flying sky
turned upside down.
This is my land, this moment
I declare myself
The very image of this twirling world,
yet magnified and upright,
somewhere between
a wind-blown gnat
and God.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2020
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