We sit on the edge of the peak

And dangle our legs in the cloud.

The sky sparkles blue above us,

The sun’s hand is on our shoulders,

And our shadows in long jagged

Puddles spread across the tundra.

Only an eagle surfing the

Feeble thermals surpasses us.

We look as far as the eye can

See across the cloud-clad expanse,

And the distance looks back at us.

The horizon’s uncertain curve

Vouchsafes no Ynys Môn; there is

Only ourselves, the depthless blue,

The sun’s hand on our shoulders, and

Our shadows reaching into space.