The Southern Upland Hills. Poem by PAUL COLVIN

The golden mottled hilltop sun
Racing clouds toward it run
A ruin stained through wars of time
A castle, abbey, once so fine
Now shelters from the smirry rain,
Where secrets past remain.
The sky’s now black like blackest ice
For beauty costs a hefty price
And constant rain is how we pay
With grey skies almost every day
But when the sun decides to shine
It shines upon this land of mine.
Forests thick, woodlands green
Where giant firs rise in between
Stonedyke walls divide the land
Stone by stone each laid by hand.
Those long haired beasts, the highland cattle
Aimlessly they feed and prattle
Walking with no purpose, sense
They hang their heads o’er battered fence
With visions blurred from straggled hair
They miss the beauty everywhere.
Sleepers lie by old train tracks
Uprooted trees lay on their backs
Stripped of leaves and crusted bark
Dead and crooked, bare and stark.
Pebbles sparkle in the sun
Where cooling, warbling waters run
Where angled trees converge upon
Lazy streams the hills have drawn.
Two horses shade by thickest tree
Where salmon rest, fresh from the sea,
A tranquil spot, so calm and still
These peaceful Southern Upland HILLS.