Here is the smell  of seafood pie  a broken tower  on the open sky  a chain of slands  rolling West  in sight of the house  where we are guests  A rambling old river  twist through the fields  ancient names  imprinted on shields  gifts arrive  for a baby girl  born a queen  at the end of the world  Furious music  from an open door  the sound of feet  beating on a stone flood  always the wind  always the form  of an elder God  hooved and horned  The head of the mountain  lost in a cloud  a country woman  soft and proud  into the bay  the horses swirl  for we come to the sea  at the end of the world