dawn at Cantick Head Lighthouse

Moments flow faster than I can write them down. While the night-long conversations of lighthouses safely hush into a velvet-grey dawn, over South Ronaldsay low clouds gather and brim with fire. They seem to tell of an unearthly conflagration out in the North Sea, beyond the horizon, somewhere near Valhalla. And the clouds fleetingly present a …

ode to a gannet

The gannet appears untouched by the storm. She glides, banks, crests and turns eastward into the gale, as effortless, balletic as always. For a moment her cruciform wings, above the surface, carve open the sea. She is perfect here. This is home. But fishing in the rain is unrewarding. The turbulent waters don't reveal easily. …