HYDRA / by Olivia Pirie-Griffiths


Dreams of Hydra in my eye

full with fruit of years gone by

of warmth that wraps around your feet

the mother sun,

a welcome heat

faces crack with salty grin

the harbour breathes boats out and in

day after day, they putt away

and then come back with fish to eat. 


You slip into the velvet, blue

your restful sister yearns for you

gone are the days 

gone are the ways

where people sat with naught to do

alive in stillness, vast and full

a place for thinking, being, listening,

learning, dreaming, teaching, living

Hydra brings it back to you.


At night, a quiet, broad and deep

of solitude and earthy sleep

broke only by the donkey's bray

circus of stars, aeons away

and in the turning afternoon

cicadas hum a song in tune 

the rhythm's slow, the form is free

while they stay shaded in their tree.


Before the evening settles in

the beads of sweat cling on your skin

after a day of salt and bliss 

urchins on the mantlepiece

reminders of a week so true

walking with him

beside the blue

one day you'll visit here again

Hydra, a gentleman and friend.