Where Eider Call
By Anna Quarendon
From the bay the boat sets out past the moss green pointed snout of Eigg and distant rocks of Rhum until we come to Muck. The rounded seal head sleek and wet bobs in the ruffled water, orange crab claw and sweetcorn shell washed in gently by the swell onto the bright white sand. Heron slow above the iris as we pass the curving wave of land where Eider call.
Night Walk
By Anna Quarendon
For Richard Brown Warden of Skokholm Island Hover of night wing from the mist above us, torchlight keeping our feet from burrows in the starless night-time. Storm petrel purring song from unseen nests, their feathered brown and white lost in the flightless darkness of The Quarry. The shout of shearwater as we find our way back across the island, stumble of birds at our feet, and above us, the silent wheel of ghost winged gull.
Anna Quarendon
Anna has been putting words together for the last sixty years, to celebrate and make sense of the world around her. Sometimes they don’t make sense at all – as with “Lepidoptera”, a collection of poems based on a year in the life of her dreams.
Sometimes they are enjoyed by people other than family and friends – as with a self-published collection called “A Year of Lockdown Limericks”, and his year she is happy that Cerasus, Echtrai and Mono magazins have accepted her poems and that others have been longlisted for Butcher’s Dog and Love The Words.
Photo credit: Matthew Schwartz
Apricot Press 