Western Isles

Skye Walk The path from Elgol to Camasunary is not for those who march across the moors in birkenstocks or claim to climb the Cuillansin their flip flops.It’s for the surefour footedand thoseunconcernedwith falling.

The Hidden Isle I created a stir in Orkney! I infiltrated the community of Longhope as a stranger and lefts as one. I surreptitiously was dressed as a “tourist,” and left in the uniform of a police constable in the Northern Constabulary. I had been instructed to uphold the law, with regard to drink driving

The Rock The Rock is not a Rock; it’s a thousand and one Rocks.The substrates; the gneiss Rock, the deep peat, the prehistoric Rocks.The local Rocks: the crofters, the cruise ship tour guides, the Leòdhasach Scottish Makar, the villages hollowed out by holiday lets, Rocks. The teenagers working in the chip shops, the Townie whose

Of our Island And what the sky, and what the land and what the hand of humankind,Without the sprinkle of the stars, nor yet the rain and sun together,that maketh our good soil a’ shine, with, “due a rainbow here, in a week or two.” weather and sweet this land within a gale, or laced

Lost in the Mist A girl of three wandered free Along a winding pathHer eyes glued to mystic hues A sinking silver swathThree fishermen cried to save the child From icy ocean’s wrathNot a moment late, they pulled her safe The child found at last Carried back then sat on lap Inside their big red

Stornoway at Night On a golden brown Autumn day in 2020 I moved from the croft home I had shared with my beloved cats on the Isle of Scalpay. My destination a flat in sheltered social housing, in Matheson Road, in the middle of the town of Stornoway. All winter long I gazed out of

ISLAND VOICES Island voices cry out‘Hi’ or ‘How yadoin?’Across a road or between people in a crowdNear by or far away Island people are different More used to doing things alone And more used to sharing InventiveAnd communalA good mix Islanders tend to give to those who askIsland people come from all corners of the

The Waterfall The waterfall changes dailyDuring winter storms the waterCascades down, in a thundering torrentLeaving a white foam in its basinWhen gales are upon usIt fights to be heard Over the howling Lewis wind. When the snow and frost Arrives the waterfall puts on A beautiful sparkling display Glistening in the Winter sun. In Spring

Island Rhythms  I am an island incomerBut here long enough To feel at homeNestled in my Site specific patch Of PointPeninsula Reminded of the Mainland byOccasional fleeting Views of hazySnowy peaksHovering on the farHorizon And the daily view framed At regular intervalsBy the windowHalf way upMy stairsOf ferries and planesTo-ing and Fro-ing Reminders of The

Be Here you should be hereon such a day the water in the bayis quiet all reflectionglass and as I passgulls fly up and settle further down the shorelike falling snow this is all I need just nowalthough on such a dayyou should be here