Blogging A to Z Challenge: I

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I is for Islands

 

Islands

The dance of hearts is a volcano.

It erupts in its own time.

Lava is a music that spills

into the ocean until

there are new islands

that rise purple

at sunset and disappear

in the darkness of a maroon sea.

Fire gave them substance.

Now the rocks have been taken

by moss, the seabirds have come

to roost, their multisyllabic song

echoing over cliffs.

Waves foam, their dark mouths

leave salt in scallop shells

on the beach.

In the yellow eye of morning

you sail back

to the island of your making.

You taste the wild berries

strewn upon the southern slope.

You lie on the moss,

inhabiting it like a bird.

You hear

the music of surf

the music of flight

the music of hearts remembering

how to sing.