Late evening by the Loch


Before me lies such a canvas divine

that surely must I, my heathen soul doubt

and see as some great Architect’s design

this place that makes my Poet’s heart shout.

Spread before me lies a liquid gloss sheet

blue black with sapphire droplets of star flash,

snug with shadowy dark leaves that then meet

in the sky a sepia summer moon splash.

Over yonder glints a croft’s amber light

swaying to a lone piper’s mournful keen,

there to honour the sultry Highland night

that’s by darkness still a beauty serene.

Lake edge water, toys sand with kitten laps

within the solemn stillness of approaching sleep,

while heady floral scent around me wraps

and a voice whispers a part of you we’ll keep.



    1. Orr, you’re so kind Lynn, this was based on another peak experience, as a boy I was obsessed by a family legend that we’re, mother’s side, descended from the Clan Stewart of Appin. And love still the whole 1745 Jacobite rebellion period. And on that night there was a lone Piper practicing somewhere, that haunting sound carried with it a powerful magic that I’ll always feel. I’ve just remembered there’s a poem ‘Butterfly & Hand’ on here, I’ll have a re-read

      Liked by 1 person

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