Your mountains frowned
with a white cap on
over silent vales
and babbling brooks
Winter was coming
over a year of goings
I walked in your midst
in utter silence
The sea lit up the sky
with the dark peaks to my right
rocks loomed high into the mist
as I reached Fiunary
A slab in memory of
on the way over the hill
as the westering sun
sank under the dark sea
I'm not far away now
and often look down the Minch
at your mist-wrapped peaks
Eilean a Cheo. Skye.
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