Island sitting in firth’s entrance,
granite presence, solid, dependable;
in season of life changes,
stability summoned.
One Saturday in May,
walking group went to sea;
trawler out of Girvan
rode bouncing waves,
up, down to Ailsa Craig.
Once boat tied, we
moved from tossing seas
to earthed firmness, climbing
labyrinth-spiral path, reaching
flat summit rock.
Standing, legs parted against
blowing breezes. Blazing sun,
blue sky sea on every side,
mountain panoramas north and south.
Tiny black dot
atop single rock;
solid land distant
on every side.
I didn’t know then
I was sitting on an altar;
coffee, sandwich communion,
marrying earth and heaven.
Afterwards, we rode to shore,
split onto our separate ways.
carrying eternity’s stone within;
security’s transformation,
ceaseless exploration.
© Phil Kemp 2026
