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A Celtic Love Trilogy for #BurnsNight

January 25, 2016


Rowing The Mountain Tarn…


A glacial tear in the Highland wilds

created when nature was but a child

to leave a lake hidden from view

which silence surrounds, and few men knew

resplendently encased by fir and heather

attracting extremes of northerly weather

from biting winds to pure driven snow

tempestual storms to this warm summer glow

and amongst the wildlife filling the air with sound

is a small blue row-boat, shallying around…

and in it seated, two lovers at peace

with time to extol each ones virtues with ease

sharing the rowing, with knowing looks and laughter

enchanted by the moment, charting what will come after

with gentle strokes, and rowlocks greased

heading towards the evenings peace

no care in the world, apart from each other

it’s the love in their eyes, more uncharted waters to discover

and the ripples and wake, wash back the tides of time

from earliest memories, they knew their lives would entwine

soul mates, sole moments, so manifestly right

each wave goodbye, now each ridden wave a delight

and as the row-boat gently approaches the shore

they know that days of bliss, like this, will be many more…..



Barefoot In The Glen…


Through silken grasses and fragrant heather

fresh morning dew between your toes

stepping gently ‘tween the sprung feathers

looking for that magic that only you know…


stepping gently, so not to crush

spring shoots arriving in the first flush

beauty in miniature, energising to grow

from seed and bulb, ‘neath bracken below

thru’ damp and muskiness

o’er hillock and green

chasing the faeries frae where ye have seen

them dancing between the fungi delight

edible full moon reflections under natural moonlight…


and as they frolic, and you join the dance

a swing and reel, side stepping, askance

joy to behold under peaceful skies

raising the passions, never denied

but all too short, or so it seems

fantasies and reality in everlasting dreams…


morning then calls wi’ the sound o’ the lark

blackbirds carouse the lifting of dark

songs to surround the gentle explosion

of new life in twinned emotions

moisture rises with the weak morn sun

peace and unity, nature as one


so as sunlight skims the valley floor

and darkness leaves the leaves once more

budding flowers reach to the light

ready to bathe us with total delight

and heavenly fragrance fills the air

how I wish, I was with you there

making daisy chains and drinking the dew

a vision of splendour, shared too by two……



A Springtime Stroll…


Wi’ a well-oiled fife, and the love of her life

barefoot amongst the fragrant delights of spring

gentle background lute, fleetingly strummed to suit

dawn chorus leading her heart to sing…


a modern girl with a renaissance swirl

leading him by the hand

through rich green pasture

past your plantings of last year

gentle breeze leaving her fanned…


she sings a sweet song

interspersed, intertwined

with elegant fife notation

leading him to the stream

with eyes all a gleam

in a dance of whirling rotation…

she plucks simple strings

her beauty framed with spring blooms

pure musicality all things

as the intensity of passion looms…


at the waters edge

bound by rush, reed and sedge

she lay the instruments down

then with a simple direction

towards his affection

she lays her love to the ground…


and tho’ the musical joy has ended

the music of love is no longer suspended

and there, beside the rushing stream

love envelops as if in a dream

and tho’ the birds may call from above

the only sounds that matter, are those of love

a unity in the natural world

amongst spring buds, all becomes unfurled…








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One Comment
  1. Reblogged this on Wet Bliss and commented:
    Too good not to share!


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