The history is everywhere
The present seems less so
The standing stones, the hollowed tombs
The wrecks in Scapa Flow
The land is bare, the winds blow hard
The Viking spirits calling
The sounds of war, the job of peace
The days and months go falling
Now ferries come and leave again
And planes fly, fog depending
Tourists view the wealth on show
The stories never-ending
Time ticks loud in such extremes
We see our edges clearly
The past so full, the present…odd
The future, with us nearly
© Rachel Fox 2006
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