The Singing Wind Poem by Sheena Blackhall

When I was small the sweet wind sang to me
Birch trees rattled their leaves like lisping tongues
The waves of the great river leapt up to greet me
Grasses stroked my legs when I walked through them

I left my shadow on the shoulder of CraigCoilleach
I dipped my reflection into the pools of Gairn
My happiness soared like wings when I was small
You can ask the bees on the heather, they'll confirm it

The stag was an ancestor, watching from afar
The curlew was a sky toy, in the cavernous clouds
I told my secrets to the creaking oaks
The moor moths brushed my cheek- bones light and airy

Nothing crouched in the glen, no queer hobgoblins
Spider webs spread harmless as drying lace
I was too young to wonder,"Why have I been born? "
Too young to notice the little graves in the leaves
To wonder where the unripe fledglings went