Isle of Iona

I explored the island’s gently sloping meadows glowing golden in the evening light as if illuminated from below and between the dancing grasses of parnassus A mass of wildflowers met my eye Cranesbill, self-heal, yellow rattle and red campion, Foxgloves, harebells and buttery meadow vetchling Ladies bedstraw so soft it invited me to lie on its mattress of cushioned saffron petals Sleepy amber cattle slowly chewed the cud While stately crowns of thistle stood majestic buttercups competed with the sunbeams to be the brightest orbs of light Dragonflies thrummed on iridescent wings amongst the camomile and milky heads of yarrow White bright eye brights twinkled purple irises and this chorale of wildflowers streamed their honeyed scent into the gentle breeze intoxicating me with heady perfumes of midsummer And beyond the tilting fields, the beach Where ropes of tangled seaweed threw their salty stench into the evening air Against a backdrop of slate-grey basalt rock Little Rose gathered treasures on the shoreline Precious shimmering shells are grouped Pebbles whose metallic glitter delight her eye Long feathers to decorate carefully moulded mounds and tiny rounded bits of glass, emerald and sapphire jagged edges sculpted smooth by time and wave and sand Beyond her, on the turquoise waves a grey seal watched all, intensely curious while indifferent gannets circled, cried and dived All this laid bare for the senses to behold radiance overwhelming to nose and ear and eye The believer may be sure they know the secrets of Iona’s splendour Yet those with only questions can but marvel at her grace and leave already longing to return and be wrapped once more in her scented golden evening embrace