The sky, replaced overnight, refreshes Jagun,
illuminated, as if by Chartres glass, or God
but we stay earthbound. After breakfast
swim to remember before the holiday crowds.
Wyn walks into the water, an odd sentence.
Is S the most beautiful letter in the alphabet?
The cold snaps at me briefly, the current
carries me towards the Red Centre, limbs
of little use, becoming gradually undone
by the grainless water and steep slopes
The tree-line scores sky, hired men
abseil and weed though the sandstone.