Isle of May

Beneath the brightness of the Stevensons’ burning,
Cormorants come to light on the igneous rock.
Skuas dive by nesting razorbeaks,
Puffin eggs tumble from the cleft cliff.

Rippling wake of summer boats recede
From the edge of the pier, the visitors
Departing the world the birds have made.
The last keeper switching out the last lights.