Home Poem by Adrian Flett

If there is anything I still see
it is those soft, those rolling hills, they encompass thee.
Old oaks holding to the last, Autumn claimed leaves,
the flash of sunlight on breeze blown trees
and lush slopes skimmed by fleeting cloud shadows
in distant patches of pasture and meadow,
with the herd etched against the green,
here we were left by Africa, unseen.


If there is anything I still feel
it is the strength you yet reveal.
Like warmth from the stove long ago
yielding, under your hand, hot bannocks from the dough.
Remember the hadeda's strident calls
echoing over the green clad hills,
and those wide stone walls,
how safely they held us all.