Slioch Poem by john appleby

Gibbous moon over Slioch,
a frozen orb tilting towards a lunar sea,
gifted from twilight.
A frozen mountain hangs in a salmon dusted dream,
fixing itself in memory.
Up there I would find myself,
amongst the bleached crow bones and starched heather.

Standing on air while the sea winds whip around my neck,
lifting hairs from stretched bare arms.
A discordant song ripping across my mind.

Feeling muscle rhyme with stone,
dance across lichenous slabs to arrive
beneath the raven walls and
find the hoary rib melt in my embrace.

Slioch...rainbowed in September's gloaming,
a fragile frieze stretched out and tacked to heaven.

If only I had the palette to paint you.