STORM ON THE ISLAND
We are prepared: we build our houses squat,
sink walls in rock and roof them with good slate.
This wizened earth has never troubled us
with no hay, so, as you see, there are no stacks
or stooks that can be lost. Nor are these trees
which might prove company when it blows full
blast: you know what i mean - leaves and branches
can raise a tragic chorus in a gale
so that you listen to the thing you fear
forgetting that it plummels your house too.
But there are no trees, no natural shelter.
You might think that the sea is company,
exploding comfortably down on the cliffs
but no: when it begins, the flung spray hits
the very windows, spits like a tame cat
turned savage. We just sit tight while wind dives
and strafes invisibly. Space is a salvo,
we are bombarded by th empty air.
Strange, it is a huge nothing that we fear.
Seamus Heaney, "Death of a naturalist"
..................................................
Thoughts, like fleas, jump from man to man, but they don't bite everybody.
Stanislaw J. Lec