The Wild Growing Furze
These are the moments we live for.
The shake and stir of the wild growing furze,
Red kites blazing over high pines, hares sparking beneath,
And hooves striking the shells from the sand.
The Hill grows blue with afternoon storms,
Rain passes over us, rushed and riding out to sea,
And the black-faced lambs curl softly in the grass.
A flood of new bruising skies cluster in the trees,
Reins of Northern light collapse and waver secretly,
No other eyes alive are seeing what we see.
These are the moments we live for.
The shake and the stir of the wild growing furze,
As one red deer picks through the ferns,
True hart of the Highlands, where I must return.
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