We are two islands that hold hands
joined by a tidal spit of sand.
I am the ancient and unspoilt
you the beneficiary of loft insulation and double glazing
and everything that is new and amazing
the internet and telephone communication
central heating and a freezer
electricity for your vacuum cleaner.
Life for me is much leaner
uninhabited and undeveloped am I
save for ancient tumuli.
And while you are well informed from radio and TV
DNA is my latest news, my history.
We communicate with flags and flashing eyes, by signs
by our posture, by semaphore, the way we stand upon the sea.
The lay-lines laid beneath the flooding sward
bring us the word.
Silence sometime shouts across the sound
shall I come to you or you to me
and though basically we are free and there’s no tears
Islands do drift together across the years.
Geoff Stevens © 2009