It ‘s a saft day, dreich drizzle
geying us the richt feel o’ the laund.
The ben lowers ower us .
A gowden eagle soars
and a peregrine falcon swoops doon
tae gaither up a wee bit rabbit.
Its chicks’ll no gang hungry the nicht.
We trauchle through the mire,
backpack heavy , looking forrit
tae a log fire and hot broth
and telling tales though the nicht
while ootside the windae, deer snicker,
gulls caw and the barn owl screeches.
A perfect day!
By Ann MacKinnon, Balloch
Author of Nae Flooers, a pamphlet of Scots poetry published by Tapsalteerie Press