The cry of a gull connects
the centuries.
Five metres and four hundred years
above my head
a fire blazes in the grate
warming the cold stone
of a floor that no longer exists.
The cry of a gull connects
the centuries.
Five metres and four hundred years
above my head
a fire blazes in the grate
warming the cold stone
of a floor that no longer exists.
Life in the Fresh Air 
I am perplexed. I can see a photograph in the email I received and yet I don’t see it in the post itself. Bizarre.
I find this photograph breath taking. The opening in the rocks, looking out at the ocean. I just saw an exhibit of Rene Magritte’s work. Your photogaph reminds me of his work. Looking out, through, from one space to another.
I like how (for me) the poem captures the sense of time and matter passing by and, like the hole in the wall leaves me wondering if there ever was a wall there, was there ever a floor?
Your post inspires me. Thank you
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Photo is back! Not sure what happened there… So glad you are inspired, it was a beautiful place, full of history.
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