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Along the Sound of Iona

Updated: Oct 7, 2019

I laid my head on the ground

this ancient ground

this sand made of as-close -to-infinity-as-you-can-get

little shell particles of limpets

who find their home on a rock and grow with it

circles upon circles of growth like a tree's.

They leave their rock at high tide to feed and glide

but leave a return trail for themselves

to find their way home again before high tide

and the gulls come.

Their rock, their home, their protection, their anchor

with the rhythms of the sea

they expand 

and ground


I laid my head on the ground

like the humble sheep taught me

accepting what is given-

steady support of this great Mother, Earth.

And then sun warmed my curled, tired body

still at last after so much




Free as the waves that moved softly 

in and out


lulling me to sweet sleep

I raised my head up off the ground


and moved my body

once more

Read by Liz Frisbee


Thank you for your insights, your grace, your calmness, your perspective, your beauty of words and images and wisdom. Your poems centre and ground and calm me. You bring an introspection and reflection that the whole word needs, dear Chelsea!

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