Wild Moment: Bill Marshall-Roberts
Bill's poem reflects on a solitary climb on Bidean nam Bian in the depths of winter
Christmas Day, in reverent silence,
near to my God, I stand alone,
half a mile above the world
and all its cares.
The sun glints crimson
off the summit snows,
sweeping cornices, sculpted
by the wind’s strong hand.
Rock and ice soar heavenward,
humbling mortals with their design,
like a vast cathedral inspired,
with the peace of solitude within.
Save for the restless wind
as a mighty organ booming,
celestial music, playing
to a congregation of one.
The sky grows dark.
Snow curtains along the valley
quenching the sun with soft fingers.
One last glance behind
to the heaven fading from my view
then, facing the blizzard,
each step muffled by fresh snow,
I start off downward,
back to the world below,
and all its cares.