St Abbs Head

Volcanic towers of rock
ascend from salt below.
And gazing down
my wonder conquers vertigo.
I see the spumes and spray
like cascades in a cauldron.
Formed from lava
so long ago.

Quite safely there I lie
on turf, close knit and rough.
Interwoven with thrift,
like a natural eiderdown.
While fathoms below
water and rock collide
in never ending swells
and undertow.

Seabirds soar on thermals
around the stacks.
Their flight so effortless
with ways never changing.
Predictable. Reliable.
Set in cooled magma
those habits formed
so long ago.

And just in view upon 
undulating seas, a vessel
small yet defiant.
It's bow against smell winds.
Steadfast, purposeful,
it passes now from view
behind rock giants formed
so long ago.

Gusts of upward air
with scents of bird and salt.
Sour but yet natural
accompanying shrill cries.
With care I move away
from vertiginous edge
to leave those stacks that rose 
so long ago.

K.N. Stirling, 2020