Not one rock.
A ring of rocks.
Looming and vanishing through the sweeping cloud.
In the centre, the world grows briefly still. The sun shafts down.Everything shines.
dance across the open ring, wiggling absurdly, their fleeces wet with dew.
They’re everywhere, bleating, and then they’re gone.
And they leave me laughing.
It draws my eye. Even when the clouds hide it, I find my eyes fixed on that point in the whiteness until it’s unveiled again. I want to go closer. I don’t want to.
And all the time the clouds shift and part and re-form. The ground seems unsolid, the sky rarely glimpsed. But the rock is like an anchor. Even when it’s hidden, it’s there in my mind, a centrepoint to this unsolid place. And I can feel it drawing me in.