T’was the last camp before
Christmas atop the Corbett on Mull,
Where the fitful wind blew hard,
before yielding brief lulls.
Moonlight reflected on new
fallen snow,
Illuminating the fine, shapely
mountains below.
It was up here where I, two ferries
from home
Received a most worrying text
on my phone.
My son’s girlfriend with child was
on a hospital bed,
Emotions overwhelmed, questions
filled up my head.,
All through the night I fretted
’til morn
When at last there was news
that the baby was born.
RECURRENT THOUGHTS churned in my head as I drove back to the ferry terminal at Fishnish. I’d had a night of fitful winds on top of Dun da Ghaoithe on Mull. During a brief lull I’d left the shelter of my tent and ventured over to the trig point. Pinpricks of light shone from houses and cars far below, and I enjoyed a feeling of being distantly connected to life down there. Suddenly an incredibly bright, waning gibbous moon rose behind a dark mountain shape across the water. I stood transfixed as the orange glow grew and came more sharply into focus. I was feeling all chilled out (quite literally – it was
