In the morning early,
I saw the folk from the village
combing the sand for starfish
which the waves had washed up
and left vulnerable.
These the villagers would collect, kill,
and sell for profit.
That was their way.
One morning I rose earlier,
and walked on the sand by the water's edge.
There in the distance, I saw a solitary figure
who was also looking for starfish.
Whenever he found one alive or even just alive,
he would lift it, kiss it,
and lay it back in the blue water,
there to be revived and to swim again.
That was his way.
Now I get up every morning,
earlier than the villagers,
early as the man.
I the strong no longer stretch to survive:
I kneel down to restore the weak.
And I have found,
though some might mock me,
that even far from the seaside,
there are starfish on every street.
(John L. Bell)
Even on the streets of Stromness?
