Walking To Corrie

Gravel crunching underfoot I walk the shifting sandspit,
following a new laid tideline of storm brought leaves.
Resting seals look on nonchalantly from offshore skerries as,
treading carefully, I cross the sea-pooled machair,
lunching on purpling brambles by the birchwood edge.
Dry footing through reedy bogland, a grey backed heron takes flight
as I step nimbly to reach the sculpted red sandstone
of a windswept autumn shore.

cjo. Arran ‘04