Memory Of Grace

At dawn
still water mirroring
emerald silence
of forested hills
marching up to mountains
on all sides
we set out across the loch
when tide was high and blue
with cloudless sky
oars trailing coiling whirlpools
the hiss of water underneath
and creak of rollocks on still air
while beneath our boat
the ocean filled with pulsing jellyfish
delicate
clear mantled ringed with purple
bright against the dark of depth

Somewhere in that
soundless space
between one shore and the other
mackrel boiled without warning
up onto the surface
to fill the air with sudden
hungry scream
of diving gulls and terns
that made you laugh with joy
as we threw our feathered hooks
across the gunnels
and hauled in a dozen flapping fish
in as many frenzied seconds

Far across that stretch
of empty water
we set our feet upon
a curve of golden sand
we knew had not felt
footsteps
for longer than a century
and there we ate our meal
of roasted mackrel
steamed mussels,
kelp and cockels
taken from the rocks and beach
on either side

Afterwards we swam
safe in nakedness
and sunlit
blue-green sea,
the seals watching
sleek and saucer-eyed,
curious as cats
before we stretched out
on the warm sand
where you fell into
contented slumber in my arms,
and I spent the lengthening shadows
of that highland afternoon
watching your sweet face
and the rise and fall
of your breasts
wondering
as I touched your sun-brown skin
how I ever
came to share the grace
that was your life