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Here in the Hebrides, out in a place

That was the middle of it all –

a nook and cranny of the west, frightened by Vikings-

a cloister where prayers scuffed and smoothed the stone.

They made these sacred pages to outlast them;

A forest full of the song of Christ,

each frond an honouring of the glory of their time –

In sapphire, crimson, gold.

By Kenneth Steven

From his latest book of poems

Out of the Ordinary

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