Torridon by Laurence Morris

The hills of Torridon rise up and are
no more or less than that.
They are sandstone, gneiss and quartzite,
not sleeping giants or rock eruptions
until we name them so.

Yet the morning light falls on them
like a salmon in the water
having caught the scent of spring,
that old dream of being a better soul
if only in some other place.

And while pathways hold meaning,
each trackless journey
traces out a new conception,
each onward step a fresh assertion
of nothing set in stone.

About The Author

Laurence Morris is an academic librarian and a Fellow of the Royal Geographical Society. His poems have appeared in Confluence, Dodging the Rain, The Broken Spine and 192

Bandit Fiction is an entirely not-for-profit organisation ran by passionate volunteers. We do our best to keep costs low, but we rely on the support of our readers and followers to be able to do what we do. The best way to support us is by purchasing one of our back issues. All issues are ‘pay what you want’, and all money goes directly towards paying operational costs.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s