Those stones you used to dance on
by the boathouse at the head of the loch
are under water today
When the sun shines between showers
I see their shape
suspended like gold,
floating
We shelter behind rough stone walls
from the intermittent wind:
earlier we balanced
like marionettes strung from the sky
tiptoeing on slippery logs
to cross a tumbling, unexpected stream
Now as we climb painfully home
we tread the edge of creation:
all that is here today
may be gone tomorrow,
or a shadow of what it was,
just under the surface
We balance again –
shadows trying not to fall