BROCH OF MOUSA
Trapped by daylight,
that storm petrel veers,
flapping against a grid
fixed just below its crest;
an unplanned cage set up as means
to stop man falling
now setting its own ceiling
on a seabird’s dizzy flight.
And the stirring of these wings
stirs memories of hours
the Braer let slip
its black lattice of oil and grime
and stopped birds flying –
that fuel allowing men to soar
downing seabirds in their flight.