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 my spirit,

Still resonating it’s 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 ....

A fogbow diffracts over the hills,

Coastal winds give whispers,

Ferries glide past rugged shores,

Seals bask in the sun’s glory.

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.