Woodland Walk

green-dappled light through
the fragrant pines, grass
track underfoot, blue
heaven above, walking
in the clear fresh air

sitting in the shade
looking out over the azure
loch, Meall Fuar-mhonaidh
behind, bulwark, brooding

foreign voices at the
next table, tell-tale
number plates in the
car park; we stopped

at the quiet place
of stone and names
to say hello, farewell,
and the years
fell away
to a husband, his
kind square hand, and a
beautiful day

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