All is calm in the land of giants,
On a rare windless day,
Water the only sound,
Life has stopped.
The sheep, still in the roofless cottage,
Belongs there as much as any,
Regular visitor, like us it has not moved
As the heavens move all.
The generations have not returned,
Chilled hearth, three chimneys,
One lofty precious pot survives,
Defiant, hope in an unforgiving land.
Two oaks guard the ruin,
Glacial debris,
Turf covered stone,
The eagle, the stag and the mountain hare.
Revolutions pass and global markets crash
But here the peace is deep,
Across the glen shadows creep,
Expectations of tomorrow.
Time rediscovered, absent clock,
Decisions of the day fundamental,
Seconds counted by the foot, unscientific measure,
Tired, we lie in our beds and absorb the noise.
Tref
Can you get me a framed copy of this lovely poem so I can hang it in the house?? I think it is wonderful. Tim
Comment by Tim Radford — July 13, 2012 @ 1:46 pm
Wonderfully evocative ……. I can feel myself there
Comment by Chris Miles — July 13, 2012 @ 11:06 pm
[…] My cut off time tonight is 8.30 at which point I have to be back in the hoose to watch University Challenge with Anne. She is v good at UC. Currently I’m hearing that Thomas Cook of holiday tour fame was a Baptist. Steaming in to Tobermory. V nice. Bought a side of smoked salmon from the smokery there once. The distillery was closed. Check out the poem wot I wrote when there with Joe http://www.philosopherontap.com/gortonbuie/ […]
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