Paddling on Loch Ness in a Borrowed Boat
For Richard O’Neil
I don’t remember why we stopped.
or perhaps the fog had settled
It was a dirt road, early morning.
to walk around the blue and white
You were sockless; I wore gloves.
After bailing it, untying the thick rope,
the deep lake uncertain it would float
lost places, an ancestral past,
Sandra M. Castillo