3. Catriona's Whistle

Ten years have passed since the summer
we dashed the White Sergeant
atop Meall Fuar - mhonaidh,

a blistering day, we'd planned to walk as one
but soon became a snaking line
as eager youth strode on past steady age.

To the tune of Catriona's whistle
salvaged from pocket, we clasped hands, then
your head thrown back in laughter

and I knew this was a special moment
to be stored away till needed -
you ready to fly the nest, and long since flown.