Missing Orkney

O to be in Orkney, now that summer’s here,
O to be in Orkney, and drink Dark Island beer,
I’d ferry up to Westray, and stroll by Skara Brae,
And watch the gentle breezes birl my bobble hat away.

I’d worship with St. Magnus, and visit Judith Glue
And eat huge fresh crab sandwiches, and beremeal biscuits too,
I’d ogle Ortak jewellery, try jerseys on for fit,
And buy more wool than any knitter’d ever hope to knit.

I’d go to the Orcadian, and buy a load of books

And recipes to satisfy long-dead Orcadian cooks

I’d go to the distilleries at Scapa and the Park

And try a Seaglass gin or two – but maybe after dark.

I’d go hiking with the Vikings, and march to Rackwick Bay
I’d crawl inside Maeshowe again, imagine New Year’s Day,
I’d walk the coast of Rousay, and poke in cairns and cists,
And I’d get a lovely suntan – but only to my wrists.

I’d cross the Churchill Barriers, and peer in Scapa Flow
(but never dare to dive to see the blockships down below);
I’d wonder at the Chapel, and the frescoes in the mess
Of the battery that guarded wartime Orkney at Stromness.

I’d visit Orkney Library, and commune with the balls,
But COVID’s set up barriers more terrible than walls.
So I’ll sit here in my study till Northlink says okay,
O to be in Orkney – but I’ll be back one day!