In the Glen

A gentle breeze sways the waters peaceful mirrored surface. Fading light weaves between the ripples, shadows dancing with a dichroic radiance. No wind whipped waves lashing the snow covered beach. No visitors skinny dipping in the icy cold depths of the loch. No sound of feast hunters scurrying through the undergrowth. The piercing eyes of the barn owl quietly staring, patiently waiting. No traffic danger lurking, deer lick salt from the tarmac. No dogs running loose, free to chase the vulnerable, pregnant cows. People cocooned in their stone cottages A façade of bravery, overlaying fear. Rules, restrictions, isolation, queues. The unknown, unseen virus is here.