04-10-2013, 12:36 AM
I need to be where buzzards broach the bosom bens,
peaks cupped in white lace kufi and pure as faith and prayer. [attachment=84]
I need to feel the brittle breeze first numb my brow and then
upon my cheek, sharp needles shed from high, dry sticks;
I feel no pricks,
just pine scent in the gloaming air.
I need to be where snow-swans slide on silver trays;
in leaf-dark shaded water, ice glazed on sun-sweat days.[attachment=85]
I need to drink fast streams that leach from bryophytic braes;
clear as poitin, peat-soft but strained through quartz and sand.
I sip the land,
as raindrops fling in Highland haze.
I need to be where sea sobs shore...[attachment=87]
Where wild hart roar… [attachment=86]
Where stars are crushed…
Where nights are hushed…
Where air is made…[attachment=88]
Where time will fade.
I need to be
where I must be.
Tectak
Shieldaig
2013
peaks cupped in white lace kufi and pure as faith and prayer. [attachment=84]
I need to feel the brittle breeze first numb my brow and then
upon my cheek, sharp needles shed from high, dry sticks;
I feel no pricks,
just pine scent in the gloaming air.
I need to be where snow-swans slide on silver trays;
in leaf-dark shaded water, ice glazed on sun-sweat days.[attachment=85]
I need to drink fast streams that leach from bryophytic braes;
clear as poitin, peat-soft but strained through quartz and sand.
I sip the land,
as raindrops fling in Highland haze.
I need to be where sea sobs shore...[attachment=87]
Where wild hart roar… [attachment=86]
Where stars are crushed…
Where nights are hushed…
Where air is made…[attachment=88]
Where time will fade.
I need to be
where I must be.
Tectak
Shieldaig
2013