Callanish Stones

The circle of stones
the aisle running north
two arms either way
never changing

The seasons turn
the winds blow
the rains fall
the sun shines

The circle of stones
a tomb in their midst
aligned to the moon
at its lowest point

The seasons turn
the snow falls
the clouds scud
darkness shrouds

The aisle running north
two parallel rows
parallel to the sea
parallel to the hills

The seasons turn
The gales howl
None are around
as the sun rises

Two arms either way
a row of stones
running towards the loch
another running towards the hills

The seasons turn
the sun brings back life
as lambs gambol
and flowers bloom

Never changing
we may come
we may go
but they will abide

The Callanish Stones