A day at the Loch

A lazy, hazy airy day With smells of wet earth. Gentle waves, the sway Of water, the rush of surf.

A dizzying expanse, Mile after grey mile Chance after chance To glimpse a living isle;

The curve of a long neck The sweep of a tail A hump, a lump, a tiny fleck Of black, a shivering scale.

A lazy, hazy air filling Fixed eyes with expectation. Excitement over-spilling Into monstrous imagination.