Wild Ireland and Skellig Rocks

It looks like a beehive
Monks once did build
In the 6th century
how did they weild
Their axes and shoulders
With local stone they
Struggled up all those steps
Over the bay
And there stands the monastery
With So much to climb
To The edge of the world
And on beyond time

An up on this crag
A sheer drop to the sea
To have worked it the way that they did
And to be
Surrounded by Puffins
And Shearwaters too
Skellig Rock murmurs
That everythings blue

The sky and the sea
Its remarkably so
And down in my rowing boat
I want to know
How those hives have resisted
The storms and the rain
And the wind all those centuries
Feeling the strain

The West coast of Ireland
At its desolate best
With the sea at its feet
Those twelve miles to test
The vast endless void
And the sunsets that draw
All those wonderful colours
To where less is more.

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