The mist swirls curiously at the centre of the Loch,
Mysterious, like a shroud, it hides it’s secret well,
And I marvel with heart stopping intensity
First at the breath -taking beauty
Then with my foot on the brake
At each death-defying descent.
And my resentment builds
At this roller-coaster ride
That leaves me cringing and defeated.
But this was never a land to be conquered,
Not by those with armies,
Nor by those with motor cars.
It will tolerate invasion only in small numbers
By those who are mindful and humble.
So beware you who would come here arrogant
Intent on claiming a piece of myth and magic,
And making it your own,
Be not wilful, or boastful
Of your indestructibility
Lest you become just another dead echo in its history!
By Rosa Montague
Published in “The Secret of Twilight”, (The International Library of Poetry, 1998).