Where I must be...edit 2, trueenigma,edit 1. billy the cliche killer

[milo]

I need to be where buzzards broach the bosom bens,
cupped in white cotton kufi and pure as faith and prayer.
I need to feel the brittle breeze first numb my brow and then
upon my cheek, high clicking sticks shed needles slick;
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, glass panes on sun-sweat days.
I need to drink fast streams that leach from bryophytic braes;
still-clear as gin, peat-soft but strained through quartz and sand.
I sip the land,
as raindrops dance in Highland haze.

I need to be where sea sobs shore...
Where wild hart roar…
Where stars are crushed…
Where nights are hushed…
Where air is made…
Where time can fade.
I need to be
where I must be.

Tectak
Sheildaig
2013

there is something amusing about buzzards wearing white hats that will always bring a smile to my face.

The sonics are nice throughout (although the alliteration is heavy handed with a blushing self awareness). Some of the lines 'sound' so nice and fresh it is easy to forget they don't actually hold water ('brittle breeze' 'glass panes on sun sweat days').

Also, the writing is a high enough caliber that I want some closure, some explication. Yah, you need to be somewhere, I need to be at work, for a paycheck. They are not going to pay you to hang around in Scotland, retired or not.

Still, fun read.

milo