River (Glen Fruin)
Delicious slipping in
Limbs like specimens under glass,
White disembodied trunk magnified.
An otherworldly figure
Silver feet on the silty bottom,
Potamic toes, appear, disappear.
Feet pushing up,
body levitating,
face submerged.
Immersion.
Glen of Weeping,
Swimming in tears,
Emerging cleansed
Renewed,
After a dook.
Woods (Arrochar)
The rest –
After the Rest and Be Thankful,
Sleepy divot village,
In a long sweeping bay,
Nestled amongst Munros,
Scrags haloed and looming,
Caves undiscovered –
We sit in the wrong pub.
Drenched tent
Trench foot
Boot off
At tent neck –
Still dank.
The chip shop that is also a soap shop is closed.
Bodies shiver in bags,
We mourn the lack of hot, vinegary, salty spud,
But twenty damp Duke of Edinburgh’s
Fare the night worse than us.
In the morning,
Metal pegs litter the green.
The woods have swallowed them whole.
Lead Image by Craig Bradford