upon that isle

Here is the land and the sea,
this place, small and crooked.
Distantly seen by revellers on ferries
and on boats.
Never visited.
Is this where word began?
Is this where the grass became green
and the rocks grey
or what are these things
without words to call them?

Does a new-born fish
leap and catch the space
above the sea?
Does it see this land,
its roofless huts
Now left and right,
between the gaps?

Wrapped in sounds
and bleary from the birth.
Does the calf across the water
stand,
does it say to itself
'I grew up
and someday
I will chomp the cud
upon that Isle'.