Poetry Map of Scotland: poem no. 352

Thursday 26 November 2020

st ninian’s isle

there’s a wind blowing in from the southlands
those dumpling clouds will bring rain tomorrow
but right now these hills are dry and the wild grass is golden

the ayre before me is glorious
gravel sparkling in the late summer sun
crunching this way and that as i make my crossing to st ninian’s

one lonesome seal sheltering in the bay follows my journey
a guardian angel watching over me like no other
such solitude is bliss and i am immortal

overhead the call of a curlew announces his flight
gliding toward the moorland to feed
whilst i navigate thrift on the bank

a wheatear watches as ancient kirk ruins appear over the brae
picts and norsemen long since departed
like the treasures once found under a tombstone

yet this isle
this old norse place
is priceless

Colin Rutherford