The Strand of the Seat

It is enough to sit on a rock on the north shore of Iona on a warm September morning, totally alone and lost in thought. Green waves are pounding on to the pale velvet sand and there is no one in sight. I toss four pebbles into the foam and let go their weight as empty shells fill my pockets with grains of sand to remind me to return.
Iona’s pale beaches, green waves and stony paths replenish me with love, abundant as the shells strewn on its shores, and embrace me like a healing rainbow after the storm.