The Coracle © 08 Jenny Chantler

What was upturned so long has been righted,
And won’t now turn turtle again.
Though spun by the temper of seasons,
Or shat on by following birds,
Bleached deep by sun time and the salt tide -
Still, she will not turn turtle again.

And with whiteness as guide during darkness,
We shall paddle on steadily there
To where sunrise and sunset are meeting
And the winds of all life breathe the air.