Loch Tay
Between the castle and the Loch—
a long way by car—
we harness wet
shadowless views of fells
and sloped valleys.
Between the bald hills
and our partially cobbled way,
dunes of heather
roll out like quilts over
the bracken-covered
hillocks where sheep graze
quietly, unaware of anything
but the taste of clover and
the crunch of yellowed grass.
While hedges of purple
sprawl across the hilly pass,
the rain only seeks to glisten
the already blurry passing of time.
from our 2011 trip to Scotland
Amy Nawrocki 