Islands

Come out with me 
to the island -
salt-licked shingle
fronds that rock
in the wind and

vine-snagged relics
of an older race. 
There we can talk 
free from the crowd. 
The crowd does not love 

a stranger. Bridled 
terns on the wing
susurration of honey bees
and private shadows
of rock pools.

Come out with me
to the island
one more time
its blue shores;
I’ll row you back.

@ianjmclachlan