Highland Ode
~ From The Heather and Rock ~

Ken James McLeod

Alpine Tarn © Ken James McLeod

Along the woody trail I strode,
Wandering endlessly through virgin forests of old.
Where to my surprise I didn't feel alone,
Surrounded by wildness . . . and all . . . calling me home.

Along the way I hear the Thrush,
He is the boss of the fray in the brush.
His song is pleasant to the ear,
And one I really hold very, very dear.

In the shadows of the mountains there are jewels in granite clefts,
Made from upheaval earth carved and sewn like that of ancient wefts.
And I amid the granite and heather . . . the call of solstice home,
How I love this place: the emerald lakes, and hours of endless roam . . . . .

KJM
(McPilchuck)
all rights reserved