There are days when I know that this land was high.
An island, you say?
Oh yes, now,
but its valleys run deep…
falling away
beneath reefs of ancient sunsets
before water
before time,
not as sunken
as soaring….
out of green depths
sprinkled with light
filling ridges of our past…
reaching towards mountain tops
and home.
Jo Scotford Rice moved to Martha’s Vineyard with her family during the winter of 1965. She kept a daily journal, and first wrote poetry at age 10. She died on Christmas Day, 2013.
