Poetry Map of Scotland poem no. 78: Eigg

The Postie’s Washing Line

When I think of Eigg
it's not the bulk of the Sgurr
or Rum's Coolin's
dominating the western horizon;
but the scent of primroses,
the constant willow warblers' song
and, on the dune edge,
strung between two driftwood poles,
a chorus line of socks
dancing
to the blue Atlantic.

Mavis Gulliver

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