stonehaven ovenbird Your name engraved in granite marks the last place your feet touched land. You climbed the cliffs in youthful ignorance, belayed to a man who could not withstand the force of the fall, so you both plummeted one hundred feet into the deadly roil of the North_Sea. You have no grave but this: this cold basin fed by the Atlantic, tempestuous and severe. No bodies ever came to light. Decades later we stood where the gale swept the purple moor grass into rolling rivulets and listened for your final cries echoing off the cliff face, hearing nothing but the call of a northern_gannet and the empty howl of all those unsung years. 251024 what's it to you? who go blather from