At the cairn


I am at the cairn with shadow at my feet;

The bog hums, and tufts of white cotton

And blue stars as if cut from the sky mark the descent.

Lagging far behind, my children climb, one after the other,

Twins hand in hand. I wave. They wave back, happily.

When they reach the top, I will no longer be here.

I have this long walk down, into the huddled valley,

Thin tracks, green ditches and the unknown lake.

I will look up to see them still climbing, burnished by light.


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