Drumbeg

To stand on the rocks of the Scottish highlands is to look out over the edge of the world.

The sullen skies are overcast and silver,
the sun casts lines of golden colour,
as my mind twists in and out in ryhme
with the wily beauty of the strangled trees.

Sun shield, sky sword;
a blue mist halo around the mighty craggy helms of the
Three guardians that stand
Tall, still, watchful.

Nearby, in mirror of the human soul,
the seal searches delicately
through the still water.
Listen with a certain ear,
you can hear his sea song.

And in this wasted wood
I kneel to the sacrement of what is.