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Mar 2020
Come to where heather-strewn meadows lie,
and valleys deep with lake-water sigh--
Villages filled with bonny lads and lasses,
where church bells ring out to soothe the masses.

Climbing over steep hills of mossy green,
watching a rugged horseman gather his team--
Winding down earthen paths of beauty foreseen,
where crisp rains fall softly--swift and clean.

Stone cottages built for the sturdy life,
flower-boxes under windows settling strife--
Of careworn faces in the kitchens and fields,
who bring crops of fruit which generously yield.

It's just a small sample of what I know,
about Scotland, its castles, and legends of old--
One day I'll be sailing across the sea,
where ancestors' spirits run wild and free !
My husband is of Scottish descent, as is one of my favorite authors,
A. J. Cronin, who wrote so lovingly about his homeland. A brief tribute, nonetheless, sincere !
Written by
Frances E McClelland  Hamilton, NJ
(Hamilton, NJ)   
92
     Weeping willow and sue
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