She flicks her tail and spray flies up
defying gravity.
Swells created by her mass
leave ripples in their wake
the only true sign of her presence.

With a crack of her back she dives
down, down, down to the floor
to grittle and grind plant life there
trigger smaller fish to flee
and this staked claim to the feast
she relishes.

There’s no such thing as humility
is her frequent refrain
when you’re the keeper to
the secrets of Loch Ness.


© Daydreamertoo *All rights reserved

*Anthony Shiels took that photograph of what might be the Loch Ness Monster from Urquhart Castle on May 21,1977.

I was lucky enough to visit Loch Ness many years ago. It was a very foggy day and as we drove alongside it, it was all so eerily silent. We could well imagine there being a real-life Nessie in that very lively long stretch of water.
I personally think if she is real then, leave her alone. She’s never done anyone any harm.

Had lots of fun yesterday via shared emails from Brenda W organiser of the Whirl and other Sunday wordlers over the word grittle.  It was originally a typo and meant to be brittle but it turned out to be a real word. LOL

Shared with The Sunday Whirl #65

Our lady of the Isles

Hardly invisible
from the ground you reach for the sky
at thirty feet high.

A gentle mother reminding us of peace
as soldiers bused by from north to south
to test fire on the range every day
but you
you hold your own most powerful weapon
as the child in your arms.

Standing on the Hill of Miracles
it certainly was one the day
something returned that was not
on the flight plan
and almost landed at your feet
causing a huge outcry.

© Daydreamertoo *All rights reserved

When I was stationed on Benbecula it was a test firing range where army and air force regiments would come and practice firing the newest ground to air missiles and fighter aircraft would also practice firing at targets other aircraft had being pulled behind them.
I was a tracking radar op, it meant as opposed to following a huge sweep of info like on a round screen, our radar ‘locked’ onto one individual target and followed wherever it went without loosing sight of it’s flight path, height etc.
One day we’d fired a (new back then in the 70’s) drone and instead of returning on it’s proper flight path it somehow went quite haywire and dive bombed…landing right beside this precious statue. Being a very religious island, you can well imagine the uproar it caused among the locals folks and, I could see why.
The hill it sits on is called ‘Hill of miracles’

Shared with dVersePoets Poetics: Tools of the trade