Prospero’s cave is under construction,
the tempest now passed, his circles undrawn.
What still remains of the bleak destruction,
small fires torch while the play carries on
in a tiring rhyme, the tyrant passes
what could have proved true, if only he’d chased
the cetaceous, the seedheads of grasses
sporting the dune, and scorning less the chaste.
I now own the deed to Prospero’s cave
that echoes with tones of his final speech.
With so few willing their peacetime to brave,
our rebuilding thrives well beyond storm’s reach.
Farewell, dark crucible! New alchemy
weds high seas to cool space amicably.
The caves of Bermuda are said to have inspired Shakespeare’s setting for “The Tempest”. An instant after I took this photo, a Bermudian emerged from the cave who would have made the perfect Prospero. I dedicate this happy memory to him.
© Elaine Stirling 2015