I thought it was the last time
I would go to my circle on the hill,
with the jagged pillar of thunderous oak,
guiding my gaze for a mile or three
was it lightning, Oak, that tore your brilliance down
and reduced it to solemnity?
The artistic grace of the Galloway skyline lectures me
on beauty and splendour,
the dynamic domino-like mountains
and trickling rivers in far off valleys
surrounds me in decaying leaves,
in autumn hues,
my solitary mind wanders,
with the breeze,
no voice could follow
no echo in the gaps
If I knew then
that I was to return in this hour
I’d have cried
it’s mad
how far you can travel
when you are confined to your mind
and how free you feel to leave
when your eyes adjust to the dying light

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