I don’t remember the book title, or much about the plot,
but somewhere along the way, while I was listening, and painting
the word laylines stopped the brushes cold…and I was in.
I opened the sketchbook and leafed back until I found the beginnings of this composition…

Another from that wonderful October trip
where we got to shed some dusty layers
and dig our souls deep into the island soil.

We were the only three on the beach, in either direction, for as far as the eye could see.

Finn, Herself and I.

The wind was fierce but the air was warm.
I was one knee shy of a pair of replacements,
so we had been keeping close to the trails,
but I had always wanted to climb up and over the dune
behind the cliffs at Lucy Vincent…so we held on to each other and set out.

Finn was the first to spot it.
She ran to investigate the driftwood tethered to the tallest pole.
The wind was behind us and every rope was singing.

There was something emotional in play…
With the solitary beach,
the powerful wind, moving sea and sky,
twirling the rope lines back and forth along the sand,
pulling taught the impossibly thin netting…

And up ahead,
my truest and my best
testing the trail
and finding the laylines
for this weary artist to follow.