Feel the peace of solitude
in our forests
and our glens
Pick the fruit of summer
on our beaches
with your friends
Drink the cool fresh bounty
deep beneath our sands
Eat our freshest harvest
reaped by island hands

Walk our windswept stretches
where ships have
come to grief
Climb our rolling meadows
let them lull you
off to sleep
Lay upon your back
as the stars hang down
on high
Stretch your fingers out
till they touch
our jet black sky

May the peace of island living
settle in your bones
May the lightness of your being
whisk you back to your own home
May you cherish our first greeting
dear as our last song
May you always feel the blessing
of our island
all life long

To the Obama family, summer 2014.

— Steve Ewing