by Colleen Keating

Above me on the Bobbin Head track
a monolith of uplifted sandstone
looms. All the tones of amber, buff and beige.
A cavernous rock of Michelangelo gravitas.
Wind-chiselled, sand carved. Even as I watch
grains of quartz scrape and grate.
Shapes are breaking out.

It took me to Florence
a corridor of unfinished sculptures
The Prisoners, stone carved by Michelangelo
on his quest for the marbled sculpture ‘David.’
It is said he worked from inside, believing
the stone knows.

Below the cliffs, the ripple of waves
fold and unfold. Tides underscore.
Water finds grooves. Wind sandpapers.
They wear down lines shaping, carving
into the grain. Craftsmanship on show.
Shapes are breaking out.