Glen Esk

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Glen Esk

Quiet,
Very Quiet,
Still and tranquil
A tranquil footprint,
Still the same as it has always been.
Occasional visitors,
Birds and bees, ancient trees,
History twisted by Lairds and roadmen.
Ploughs and searchlights, ruin and dry stone.
Mysterious cairns and monuments.
The Picts came this way, the robbers and the cattlemen,
The priest and the poacher and those who could not stay,
But we only have a few days,
To share this drizzle and mist,
The elusive sun, the cruel cloud,
Those that deny us a perfect summer,
Some how doesn’t matter.
No phone signals for there is no need,
Track the RAF in a hurry,
Planes are still new to these skies,
Chop logs and bird watch,
Waste time and build bridges,
Dam up streams and daydream,
Think and write down thoughts,
Forget what you were taught,
About time and things to do,
On holiday with you.