The Mariner

by Aonghas Pàdraig Caimbeul

He’d sailed the seven seas
seeing the sun rising
over Mount Fujiyiama
on a June morning.

In his old age,
he sat on a wooden box
at the end of the house,
his eyes on the horizon.

When he spoke
there was homesickness in his voice,
as if he was hearing the Appin dialect
once more, in his native land.