High upon this hill, blue an green
My heart races in balm of drizzle,
I taste the seas' shimmers, crofts,
The turf and tobacco betwixt rain
Travel from my village to mind me
That this be an ancient landscape,
I inhale deeply damp Clannish air,
Have come to know winter peace
And all is golden in fey softy days,
In the scours of lamb scented sun.
Dec 13, 2015
Dec 13, 2015 at 2:02 AM UTC
High upon this hill, blue an green
My heart races in balm of drizzle,
I taste the seas' shimmers, crofts,
The turf and tobacco betwixt rain
Travel from my village to mind me
That this be an ancient landscape,
I inhale deeply damp Clannish air,
Have come to know winter peace
And all is golden in fey softy days,
In the scours of lamb scented sun.
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