by Wendy Guthrie
(California , USA)
The image which stands before me
No portrait can produce ,
So beautifully presented ,
It speaks languages of its own
Captures beyond any measure
I lay down my heart .
Possessed of landscapes
Which fracture lights purity,
Lush covered mountains
Like a jewel set in one's eye
Stand of wisdom, honor and courage .
Legacy's of bygone generations ,
Humble men play pipes ,
The pipes serenate you with sweet melodies,
With ending notes of one's last song,
Echoing through the Loch's, valleys and Glens ,
I drink from the Loch from which I thirst ...
Ocean waves crash against the rocks,
Like teatered Seesaws move ,
Rain falls upon the valley's
Like an island that cries ,
Bending from the moody foggy skies
The proudest trees stand tall,
Like an injection I inhale the mist..
In fragile movements the wind plays in scented streams.
The frosty air blows over frozen fields of Heather,
Such purely loved the greatest hills,
Castles stand which risked there great humour ,
Thistles touched by glisten and due ,
A wonderful inhalation of life...
Wings of forever dance in Freedoms Mist
In widespread beauty all around,
Such gracefulness , which lives forever more,
A unique way of life,
I've lived where only a few could know
Scotland's Grace ...