This is the harbour wall up at Port on Lewis, that turns the sea into a safe rolling pool on its lee-side for novice classes when I visit from Skye to teach. Often battered by huge swell, we have each, in our fashion, stood atop of the precipice carrying individual reasons for being there, rubbered or tired, through full moons & storms, midnight screaming at the sky, or on days of peace or days of rage, craning down into the Drums 30ft drop off churning abyss bottled-necked rollers & rock, & clung to the edges in a hail of rain marvelling with laughter inside Atlantic sonic booms of spray. We have made running dives off here between the rocks, equally, sat & done nothing more adventurous than talk... Like an old tree, this otherwise ordinary wall has seen a lot, & as an aside, provided in it's time - Fireworks for the pelagic.
Come to the edge,
No. we are afraid, it is too high.
Come to the edge.
& they came.
& he pushed them & they flew.