Homeland. Poem by Michael Cochrane

In cold mountain air the lonely eagle flys, over our homeland.
Winter is coming from the North, biting winds and snow.
The roses have gone replaced by silk threads of frozen webs covering the thorns.
The sunset comes early we sit around the fireside together.
Older now and wiser, memories stray to the past I wander no more.
My heart is at home with you in my arms forever.
I cover you with your shawl as you sleep through the storm.
Michael Cochrane ©️ 2026