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