On Not Coinciding

Say there’s one moment in each lifetime
when it’s granted to us to see each other
as we are: when was it? I think of
latish on a wet day, in Alligin Shuas,
weather clearing, we’ve all set out

to walk to Diabaig, even found
the start of the path easily for once,
and you’re five or six, in your small boots
(it’s far too far and strenuous
for you really): you’re exclaiming

to me about the puddles, and
as if you’ve just then discovered
how to do it, jumping from stone
to stone with the perfect balance
of one fully attuned...
...