Find Our Way Back Home Poem by Mark Heathcote

Let us run through the heather.
Until the sun cannot guide us, home
Then, let us fly with the eagles.
Over the Lochs and Glens
And where the shadow falls and evening glides
Let us pluck the stars from the sky.
Because each moonbeam is ours, and the days
Are for living like a crashing wave.
Or a migrating bird that's only learned to climb
And catapult towards the sun, higher and higher.
Let us forge a path that, no matter how it winds
We find our way back home.
Running through fields of heather
Or flying over Lochs and Glens, whatever the weather
Let's migrate home on a warm thermal wave together.
Higher and higher.