The sound of the lapping waters wakens me
I feel the cold air on my neck
I hear the birdsong from so far away
I touch bare rock and feel shivers form on the nape of my neck
I dress quickly and scramble the rocks to the glacial shore
Tall mountains meet my gaze ahead, I spy a wondrous valley
and the sunlight, startles me ...
Extract taken from 'Serving The Gentle Shepherd' written by Matthew James June 2003
