MIGRATION OF THE DUNES

Off the east coast of Canada amid the deep, dark waters of the Atlantic rests Prince Edward Island. To experience P.E.I. is to know a people whose heart is cast in gold, treasures in of themselves upon a land that is steeped in historic significance. Their existence hangs by a thread of balance, or imbalance, a dependence upon the goodness of land and sea. Their fate rests in their bounty and stronghold of their governance.

‘Tween the emerald tallgrass and wheat fields

In a quilt works of golden profusion

Rise the dunes by the sea they call Greenwich

Where the deepest of blue waters shimmer

Windswept sands creep on an inland traverse

Where the marshes and woodlands be buried

Shorelines in splendour hold fossils of old

Tiny crab in a tremulous foray

The ridges of sand known as Gegenwalle

Meander in sculpted severity

On the isle amid Atlantic waters

Where lovers strolling barefoot enchanted

Gulls caw to the winds and the dolphin swim

By the shores of the dunes in migration

From northernmost shores beyond Seacow Pond

To the southerly docks at Wood Islands

Victorian mansions of heritage

Grace the hills amid forest and homestead

Roads of red clay in meandering twist

Binding farms to the fisherman’s village

Where lighthouses blink to offshore boats speak

Through the mist in the moor of white darkness

The red sandstone cliffs rising ominous

Forewarning the dangers before them

On the isle amid Atlantic waters

Where lovers strolling barefoot enchanted

Gulls caw to the winds and the dolphin swim

By the shores of the dunes in migration

In the forenoon the sun towers over

Aged boardwalk of sea-gnarled gangways

Villagers amble in solemn content

Amid kibitz of islanders’ prattle

The lore of east coasters forever holds

In abeyance to life passed before them

The outrigger’s cry as he battles seas

In the fury of a mid-summer’s storm

The mainstay would totter in gale force winds

And the bow, she would list to the leeward

On the isle amid Atlantic waters

Where lovers strolling barefoot enchanted

Gulls caw to the winds and the dolphin swim

By the shores of the dunes in migration

Native bands settled this isle long ago

By the resplendent shores of Atlantic

Acadians set about tilling the plains

And the Scottish would pioneer steadfast

It is here where the easterly winds blow

Their might upon the white dunes of Greenwich

Sculpting a landscape for centuries long

Peoples remain though the fisheries gone

Land so beloved, the dreams that they share

In their heart and their soul forever more

On the isle amid Atlantic waters

Where lovers strolling barefoot enchanted

Gulls caw to the winds and the dolphin swim

By the shores of the dunes in migration

(repeat chorus)

Copyright Don MacIver 2010; All Rights Reserved

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