My dark mountain, towering and glowering above the Glen.
Though tall, and even in the sunshine you have black shadowy places,
you are beautuful, memorable cool and make me feel at peace.
Today I am making a plan to come back and sit at your feet.
Schiehallion (Scottish Gaelic: Sìdh Chailleann, Fairy Hill of the Caledonians”) Perth and Kinross Scotland.
My garden, my escape, my breathing space
Color and beauty all around my feet
yet-i need the flower of her face
To make the scene complete
She never believes it, despite our history,
Her denials of beauty are a mystery,
I tell her plainly, but she is unable to see,
The visual poetry so obvious to me.
Sipping tea at my table, looking out to sea,
Where Jason sailed his ship millenia before me,
A different sort of quest brings me to this pier,
To see a special local rose that grows only here.
In a summer which is not so hot,
In a poem that is just about fine,
I steal some lines and make them mine,
And ask myself: what is odd, what is right?
Technically that's one extra line
But I suppose that's just about fine
just try to ignore
that it's not four
but it's five lines this poem of mine
