8/22 “4- Cliffs of Moher”
I’ve captured the cliff’s whistle in my curls.
That crash of the tide
against a shoreline of pebbles
histories below me –
the way it reverberates
between the cliff’s curled lips
and carries up
in gusts
to hum for me.
I’ve let my hair down
to embed that echo
and keep it caught near my ears,
to listen
when I climb back
down, down, down
from these wondrous heights.