“Aran Islands” by Heather Schultz


An island of pathways and ancient ruins,
Green, open lands cut off by sloping cliffs
Into the Celtic Sea where sunlight
Stores heavenly gifts.

Gathering speed, tasting the cool salty air
Let go of the pedal and you fly
Down, down the gravel road,
Freedom soaring by.

Terrain soon too rugged,
We go on foot up to the island's peak
Where forgotten warriors once stood
And history desires to speak.

I miss these winding trails and aimless wanderings,
The sea and heavy, flowing wind.
That day will cloak my dreams
Until senses have one day been weakened.