Poetry
Five-minute storm
The sky knows more than we do, and it always did. As tier three creeps closer stormclouds queue over the marsh, a fire’s set and for five minutes arrowed droplets dance in Velvia haze. The moon tries to come up while light peels back, laserburned by the taproot of
World Poetry Day: a poem found at Kearvaig bothy
Poetry and the outdoors seem to go hand in hand. George Mallory said the ascent of a mountain is like a symphony, but I think a day in the hills is more like a poem. In February 2019, at the end of my winter Cape Wrath Trail, I found myself