I had not expected to fall so in love
with an Atlantic isle
(being Pacific born, fully invested
in keeping faith with my own ocean.)
But the chartreuse, old gold
and burnt ochre of the bogs,
the sienna and umber of stony hillocks
the ultramarine ridges beyond,
the indigo wash of overcast and loch
tap deep into my being.
I love the twisting one lane roads
the sheep lying on the verge (not shoulder)
the white two story cottages
with their black roofs,
the red telephone boxes --
is the whole blessed country
a movie set?
And if I’m so affected from my own desk,
by the Street View and Google Earth tour,
what kind of a mess would I be
if I could smell the land, hear the waves
feel the wind, splash across a burn
hear the Gaelic in it’s native air...?
If I could only get there!