Across the Forth from Cramond

Deep crimson, pink and orange banners flood the sky
Above an early white landscape of hoar frost.
Footsteps crackle on the grass leaving imprints as witness
To our passage.
The decaying leaves of yesterday have been dressed in white lace
Lying at the side of the road to the beach.
We pass the graveyard quiet and still,
Our forebears unknowing of the cold world above.

There is no wind and the tide is far out.
It is cold, so cold that our breath hangs in the air.
Seagulls scream for bread that is being flung
By a mother and child, all happed up against the chill.

We watch the quarrelling birds and then turn westwards,
Enjoying cloud reflections in pools of seawater,
And the pastel apricots and blues in the eastern sky.
Enjoying the briskness of a walk to dispel the cold,
And bringing a rosy glow to our faces.

The island in the blip may be Inchmickery, but there again it may not be. I feel ashamed that having lived here almost all my life I can still fail to identify these islands in the Forth.

EDIT On the authority of one who sails these waters, I have been told it's Inchkeith. So be it.