There’s mist from the waves
And mist on the air,
But the wind is soft,
And the sky is clear.
Can you smell the grass
That lines the steep sides,
Still wet in blue skies?
It’s been a long time,
Years since I was here,
So long I’ve grown vague
And sweet as its air.
I found a hilt here,
Well sunk in dark sod’s
Moss as frail as me.
It was not my place
To tear that edge free.
