Wild Mountain Thyme
Under misty skies,
Lochs reflect the heather's
of the highlands bloom.
Murmurs of the wind,
Cairgorms castles rise,
Guardians of myths and legends;
Stone and story blend.
Isle of Skye' rugged breath,
their Village cradling mountainside.
Sunlit scales in fishermen nets,
Harbourside, echoing
Scots Gaelic in joyful bursts
Warmed souls of whiskey sing
"Donald, where's your trousers?"
Serve Scotch Pie filled with mutton,
as savory pudding is placed.
There, bagpipes fill the air,
An instrument once claimed,
now speaks to the spirit,
Still resonating history.
In drones and chanter ~
Roots that run deep in soil.
A stroll through green fields,
Wild mountain thyme,
Elderberry hedgerows,
Where sheep graze in lazy time,
Alder, Oak and Willow swing,
Nature's gentle hymn ....
Rainbow over hills,
Coastal winds whisper,
Ferries glide past rugged shores,
Seals bask in the sun.
Tartan threads and clans,
A tapestry of the past,
Pride woven with love.
In every heartbeat,
Scotland’s spirit finds its way,
into an Americans heart.