a poem for spring

Providence

Kippers on your breath and
the washed smell of your hair.

Providence, Strathgarry, Fiery Cross.
The Arnish light and the beacon.

Courteous signals in your tones:
your green and disarming eyes.

Golden Sheaf, Comrade, Northern Star.
A fixed navigational sequence

below the night cloud line
and October star-points.

Tension of wind-drift and keel
in the tracing of wakes