The hills keep me company.
When the weather's bad, they sing
And scream and yell and cackle,
And when it isn't, and the sun comes
They glow.
The trees, too, rather like me
Rattling their branches in greeting
Painting the moss floor in golden stripes
When the sun sets on a fine day.
As lovely as the blue sky is,
I've grown to adore the grey,
The clashing, chaotic visage
That comes on a cloudy day.
Then lies the mountains, stoic
Buckling up through the land,
Sometimes bare as bones,
Sometimes covered in hardy heather.
To see the view from up there,
Is better than to stand
On the shoulders of giants: rather
It is what it feels like to be one.
And to look upon it all from afar,
At the beauty inherent in the world,
Makes me whisper to myself:
I want to be there.
A/N: on holiday in Scotland. Scenery's okay I guess
YOU ARE READING
Blue Lights
PoetryThis was meant to be my random book, but I'm changing it to poetry only since that's all I'm likely to post for a while.
