Wild Moment: Matt Barrett
"Like days on hillsides, those gifts were on loan..." Trust member Matt muses on lost and found kit:
Loan
Beinn Clith-Bhreac
October still as held breath
Autumn on pause.
At six hundred metres:
a scuff path in the heather
Swiss army knife
offered-up among butterwort.
No grit or ancient cheese
at the base of the blade,
it’s in such good nick
that before I pick it up,
I stupidly look around.
Bla-Bheinn
rich Minch air trickling May
through warm western grass.
At three hundred metres:
between rock knuckle and tick fern
a decent balaclava
the thought of putting it on
makes me sweat even more.
Winter’s relic
but prep for the next -
after a machine wash fine
versus a blizzard.
Two years after, the knife
ends its mountain trips
seized in perspex
at Glasgow airport.
The balaclava dropped
or snatched by the wind,
I’m not sure which,
I never noticed it was gone
until I needed it.
Like days on hillsides,
those gifts were on loan
and despite my indignation,
never for me alone.