I just don’t enjoy Moon Island,
jolly though it can be
when boisterous breakers wallop
the beach right next to me.
Farther away, wee fledglings
flop in the sea and drown:
surf makes the sea-cliff shudder
and sends eggs pattering down.
I hate it here on Moon Island,
but I have to stay, you see,
with my ribcage ripped to pieces
when the rockslide fell on me.
From A Poem A Day: United Kingdom, Ireland & Continental Islands
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