This is a bedraggled
Windswept spot of rock
On a far northern sea

The gales blow hard over open water
Make landfall with merciless ferocity
And there break the will of branch and limb
Leaving nought but the tenacious grass
Which cleaves to the rubble of shoreline stone

And here am I
Full face into this sunny storm
Turbulence heavy in my ears
As it ties knots in my swept back hair

I remind myself
Be supple
Like the grass
Bend with the buffeting
And I too can thrive

Even if life sometimes seems
A gale upon a bedraggled rock
There is no small victory
In the supple tenacity
Of just getting through a day
With grace and dignity

I may even find
A little peace in it
Perhaps some beauty
Like I do here
Today
On this western shore
Of Newfoundland