Moment on a Hillside

Grey, moss grown stone ascending

Ardently towards the cloud;

A wink of sun keeks through a stand

Of heavy, sticky pine and

Water trickles by my feet as still

I rise and breathe the ever softer air.

The only sounds… a car, four miles away,

The burn I walk beside and wind

Embracing me and all in my purview.


The moment, like a thought, consumes

And takes up residence within me.