At first the heavy rain, taunted
and whipped to a frenzy by a
jeering wind. Next, like
Beowulf and Grendal, intent on
each other's deaths, locked in a
battle that raged all night, came dawn's
first light and brought a peaceful stillness,
a scene more Heorot than Urquhart.
Trees, their limbs splintered and gashed,
torn and ripped from torsos, yet still upright,
while others uprooted in shameful submission
lay face down in the river, stripped
of branches whose many leaves
now floated downstream to seek out
quiet sanctuary in nearby Borlum Bay.
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