A poem for St Columba of Iona

Delightful to me to be on an island hill, on the crest of a rock, that I might often watch the quiet sea; That I might watch the heavy waves above the bright water, as they chant music to their Father everlastingly; That I might watch its smooth, bright-bordered shore, no gloomy pastime, that I…

‘Spirit’ by Andrea Skevington

How would it feel, then. to live in that God-shaken house? To feel the wind, like the very breath of life, like the stirring of the deep before time, gusting through these small daily rooms, clattering and pressing against doors and shutters, not to be contained? How would it feel to look up, eyes dried…

‘Pentecost’ by Malcolm Guite

Today we feel the wind beneath our wings Today the hidden fountain flows and plays Today the church draws breath at last and sings As every flame becomes a Tongue of praise. This is the feast of fire, air, and water Poured out and breathed and kindled into earth The earth herself awakens to her…