That wee box with four wheels
and a pop lid lets me stop.
It tells me; no clock just rest
track the day into night by light
and it’ll be alright. Boil the kettle
fifteen times a day,
watch the flames eat away
the masquerade.
Sit holding your peace of the moment,
watching the metal beaked birds
peck at the crumbs left
by those who remembered
and stopped before you.
J.H
Glenmore campsite along Loch Morlich was just what the Dr ordered. Or he would have done as he’d already prescribed a poem, Grief Walker and Yoga Nidra. Had he known what good camping was going to do that would have been added to the list for sure.
Slowing down the clock, talking with a friend, wild swimming and eating crap for two days. Lots of laughs burst the sad bubble. Let it drift off for now. It was March and the weather was amazing. No rain until the day we left, just moody big skies sweeping across Cairn Gorm in spectacular silence.
The water temperature was brrrrr 3.3c ish and we did no ice miles but as we swam the shadows fell from our skin allowing glimmers of light to shine through. Nature can do that to you. It’s just getting on with its job of being; birds swoop, trees grow and clouds lift.
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