My God ...
I’m ancient now I’m ever so old,
As if I’m a story forever told.
Her calls a lasting bagpiped tune,
Carried upon the mist and moon.
To my left the water runs deep,
‘n to my right the cliffs so steep.
I walk the night with eyes that seek,
Her slippery path a watery streak.
The movement itself is subtle and faint.
There is a sense of silent restraint.
The light is dim, so I can only guess.
And then a flash, my God ... my Ness!
Copyright © Jerry Hackett | Year Posted 2017