Colin, thoughts
From Sgorr Dhonuill to Sgorr Dhearg I watch the latest swirl (break before I
or after watch, perhaps some others below.)
two miles wide and a mile high
rise and break on the bealach,
overflow to the Glen of Sorrow.
Day after day they come, while rock is unmoved. (no while or is)
Crevices fill with water that drops to the burn.
Wraiths reach ridges and lift to commune with heaven. (no and)
Faces change in minutes, gargoyle to angel
as they imagine peaks of their own in spires of vapour.
On the summit is a bed of rock and a rock pillow.
I shape myself to it, between bone and a moment's thought.
Am I of stone or cloud? (a S of it's own)
In general a good read, but I would look at form.
Smiles.
Gary
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