Oak trees screened the wind,

framing the sight of boisterous waves –

that reached across the stormy strait,

leading troubled eyes to distant crags.

In bands of gray the view was born,

from silver to the darkest hue

and reaching to a distant peak

the rising crests, a flight of stairs,

to carry one on wings of thought –

away from cares that haunt our dreams

or spoil the gentler things of life.

 

David Garlick, Victoria, 1988